Bad Moon Rising
by AndyInWonderland
Summary: Sixteen-year-old twins Scott and Sophie McCall are practically invisible at Beacon Hills High School. Socially awkward and quiet, the twins aren't anyone's definition of popular. But everything changes one fateful night when Scott is bitten by a werewolf—throwing the McCall's lives into complete and utter chaos.
1. Wolf Moon

**Author's Note:** Hi there! I present to you, _Bad Moon Rising_! This is yet another Scott-Has-A-Twin-Sister take on the series, but I like to think that mine brings something unique to the story. Especially considering what I have planned for the later seasons, in which I plan to bring some big changes to the show that we all know and...well...wish had better writing. Anyway, here is my disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. Sophie McCall is, though slightly cliched, an entirely original character and any resemblance she may bear to another author's work is entirely coincidental.

Without further ado, I give you: _Bad Moon Rising_!

* * *

><p><em>I see the bad moon arising<em>

_I see trouble on the way_

_I see earthquakes and lightening_

_I see bad times tonight_

_Don't go around tonight_

_Well it's bound to take your life_

_There's a bad moon on the rise…_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One<br>Wolf Moon**

I stared at the calendar hanging from the wall beside my bed, the red X's I had crossed off each day with in red marker glaring at me angrily. Two weeks had gone by in the blink of an eye, and now the words "_First Day – Spring Semester," _seemed to be mocking me as I stared at them, reminding me that winter break was finally over, and tomorrow morning I would be back at school whether or not I wanted to be. With a sigh, I flopped backwards onto the bed, squeezing my eyes shut.

High school was not exactly something I was good at. Sure, my grades said otherwise, but there was a hell of a lot more to high school than just the classes. Quite frankly, I just didn't fit in. On the social totem pole that was Beacon Hills High, I wasn't at the bottom, but I certainly wasn't at the top. I was right in the middle—which made me totally invisible. I wasn't the type of girl who was made fun of, but I certainly wasn't the type of girl who got invited to things. No, I was the girl who sat in the back of the classroom, who read during lunch, and who spent more time with my brother and his best friend than with other girls. And at a school like Beacon Hills, social status was annoyingly important. What you wore, who you were friends with, and what you did on the weekends _made_ you. I couldn't stand hearing about it day in and day out, and it made school unbearable. Wise beyond my sixteen years, I had wanted anything to do with any of it. I wanted _more_. And in a town like Beacon Hills, more was simply unattainable.

Sighing, I pushed myself off the bed and crossed the hall to my twin's room, leaning on the doorframe. Arms crossed, I snickered as I took in the scene before me. My brother was doing pull-ups on the bar he had installed in the doorway to his private bathroom, his legs crossed underneath him as he pulled himself up, sweat glistening off his back. "Really, Scott?" I asked with a smirk. With a yelp of surprise, Scott let go of the bar and toppled to the floor, landing square on his back with a grimace. My hand flew to my mouth as I tried to contain the laughter that threatened to burst forth. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

Scott stood up, shooting me glare and rubbing the spot on his back he had landed on. "You could knock, you know," he remarked sourly, picking up a towel from the rack in the bathroom. "You scared the hell out of me."

I bit down on my lip. "The door was open," I pointed out. "And I couldn't sleep. So I figured I'd see if you were still awake. Why _are_ you still awake?" I asked, tilting my head to the side and twirling a loose strand of my dark hair around my finger.

Scott sat down on the edge of his bed and picked up his lacrosse stick, fiddling with the laces. "Tryouts are tomorrow," he explained as he began to re-lace the net. "I'm gonna try to make first line."

I raised an eyebrow as I entered the room, sitting on hi desk chair and crossing my legs. "What is that, your 'power of positive thinking?'" I joked.

He rolled his eyes and shot me a look. "You know, maybe you should try it sometime, Soph. How do you know it doesn't work?"

I laughed. "I don't," I replied brightly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "But I _do_ know there's a difference between _imagining _you can play lacrosse and _actually being able_ to play lacrosse."

Scott scowled at me, pulling on the laces of his stick, testing to see if they would hold. "I've been practicing," he insisted, picking up a ball and tossing it up and down in his palm. "I'm gonna play this season. You'll s—" There was suddenly a loud crack from outside, like the sound of someone stepping on a tree branch. Both our eyes flew to the open window. "Did you hear that?" Scott asked quietly, standing up.

I nodded, then gave a slight shrug. "It was probably just the neighbor's cat. I wouldn't wor—"

"Shhh," Scott scolded me, moving closer to the window to hear better. "There it was again."

"Maybe it's just mom."

"No, she's working graveyard tonight. I think there's someone outside." He picked up a hoodie from the foot of his bed and retrieved a baseball bat from the inside of his closet. "I'm gonna go check it out, okay? Stay."

I raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "Excuse me? I'm not a dog. I'm coming with you."

"Sophie…"

"Scott…"

He groaned. "Fine. But stay behind me, alright?"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, okay. But I'm telling you, it's just a cat." I followed my brother down the stairs, trying not to giggle at his macho behavior.

The front door creaked as Scott swung it open. He wrapped his free hand around my wrist to keep me close as we stepped out onto the front porch. I stood up on my tiptoes to peek over his shoulder, and saw nothing but darkness and fog. "See?" I whispered. "There's nothing out he—"

Before I could finish my sentence, there was a loud _thump!_ from the roof above us, followed by a body falling down over the side of the trellis, which caused both Scott and me to shriek and jump back, which caused the person dangling from the roof to start screaming, which in turn caused me and Scott to _keep_ screaming.

"Wait wait wait wait!" I cried as Scott raised the bat to swing. "_Stiles_?!"

Scott dropped the bat when he realized that the person swinging from the roof was, in fact, our best friend, and dropped the bat. "Stiles, what the hell are you doing?" he asked incredulously.

"Neither of you were answering your phones!" the skinny boy replied, his hands dangling past his reddening face. "Why do you have a bat?"

"I thought you were a predator!" Scott defended himself.

"A pre…" Stiles trailed off with a laugh, before shaking his head. "Look, I know it's late, but you guys gotta hear this. My dad left twenty minutes ago. Dispatch called, they're bringing in every officer form the Beacon department, and even _state police_." He told us excitedly.

"For what?" I asked, straightening up at the prospect of excitement. Stiles smirked at me, before tumbling off the lattice and landing clumsily on his feet. He caught himself on the beams of our front porch and gave Scott and me an unholy grin that could only mean one thing—mischief.

"Two joggers found a body in the woods," he informed us, still grinning. Scott's eyes widened.

"A dead body?" he asked, his mouth gaping.

Stiles and I gave my twin matching looks of chagrin. "No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body," he replied with an eye roll.

"You mean like, murdered?" Scott asked. Stiles shrugged.

"Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties."

I stepped closer to the boys and crossed my arms. "Wait, if they found a body, what are they looking for?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"That's the best part," Stiles told us excitedly, practically bounding with excitement. "They only found _half_." His voice climbed an octave as he said the last word, totaling relishing the fact that Scott and I were hanging on his every word. He paused for dramatic effect, before pulling his keys out of his pocket and jingling them in front of our faces. "We're going."

* * *

><p>The headlights of Stiles' jeep lit up the sign that told us the Beacon Hills Preserve was closed after dark, but that didn't seem to faze the Sheriff's son as he held up the chain for me to cross under. "We're seriously doing this?" Scott asked for what seemed like the thousandth time as he climbed out of the car. I rolled my eyes at Stiles, who gave me a knowing look.<p>

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," he reminded him, clapping a hand on his shoulder as he joined us on the other side of the chain.

"He's got a point, Scotty," I called back as I followed Stiles into the trees, shivering. A light mist had begun to fall from the dark clouds overhead, and I hadn't changed before we'd left the house, which meant I was only wearing a pair of Scott's old sweatpants and a long-sleeve t-shirt.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow…" Scott trailed off, shoving his hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Right, because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles retorted as he stepped over a fallen log. I smacked him on the back of the head for being insensitive. He turned to glower at me as he rubbed the spot where I had hit him, but I was already looking back at Scott, who was tramping up the small hill we had just climbed to catch up to us.

"No, because I'm playing this year," he replied, ignoring Stiles' comment. "In fact, I'm making first line."

Stiles grinned. "Hey, that's the spirit!" He said brightly, moving a tree branch out of my way. "Everybody should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one." I reached over to whack him again, but he could my wrist before I could, resulting in a conversation made up entirely of facial expressions.

_What?!_

_ Don't be mean._

_ It's true!_

_ That doesn't mean you have to say it out loud!_

Stiles narrowed his eyes at me, but dropped the subject, turning back around and continuing deeper into the woods. "So just out of curiosity, what part of the body are we looking for?" I asked, out loud this time, looping my arm through my brothers as he helped be traverse a particularly tricky area of dead wood.

"Huh…I didn't even think about that," Stiles replied with a laugh.

"And, uh…what happens if whatever killed the body is still out here?" Scott asked, his voice full of uncertainty.

"Also something I didn't think about," Stiles answered with his usual exuberance. I rolled my eyes.

"It's good to know you planned this out with your usual attention to detail," I called out ahead, holding onto a tree branch to support my small figure as I pulled myself up over a rotting tree stump.

Stiles scoffed. "I resent that, actually."

"All I'm saying is, if I get murdered by some homicidal, chainsaw-wielding psychopath out here, I _will_ haunt you until you die."

"Who said it was a chainsaw-wielding psychopath?" Stiles retorted, his face a mask of sincerity. "What if it was a machete? Or like, a samurai sword?" He mimed slashing a sword through the air. Scott groaned.

"I hate you both," he said, as we stopped in a clearing, and leaned up against a tree. He was holding his hand to his chest, and my brow furrowed when I realized his breathing was labored.

"Scott?" I asked, my voice full of concern. "You okay?"

He nodded, and removed his inhaler from his pocket. "Fine," he replied as he took a puff of the medicine. "But maybe the severe asthmatic should be the only holding the flashlight?" He suggested to Stiles. But before anyone could say anything in reply, the distant sound of dogs barking reached our ears, followed shortly by the trampling of countless feet crushing leaves. The three of us whirled around to see beams of yellow light shining through the tree trunks, headed straight for us. Stiles swore under his breath before grabbing my arms and dragging me to my stomach on the ground beside him, Scott sliding in next to me. I watched as officers and canine units poured into the clearing, their eyes scanning the perimeter for any clue as to where the body Stiles had told us about could be. I held my breath as I realized they were coming right for us.

"Get up," I hissed, dragging my friends to their feet and backing up towards the safety of the trees. "Go!" I didn't waste any time trying to rub the dirt off my torso, only began to run.

"Wait, Sophie! Stiles!" I heard my brother cry from behind us, sucking in another breath from his inhaler. But before I could slow down to help him, Stiles' hand slipped from my own as an enormous dog leapt at him from the brush, knocking him to his feet. My heart pounding in my ears, I dove behind an oak, and threw my hands over my mouth to quiet my breathing. I motioned wildly for Scott to hide.

Just then, a familiar voice echoed through the trees, and my entire body tensed up. "Hang on, hang on. This little delinquent belongs to me." I squeezed my eyes shut. Crap.

"Dad!" Stiles greeted the sheriff cheerfully, like it was completely normal for him to be out in the middle of the woods at 11:30 on a school night, alone, in the rain, while the police were searching for a possible murder victim. "How are you doing?"

"Do you listen in to all of my phone calls?"

"No," Stiles replied, breathless. "Not the boring ones."

"Where are your usual partners in crime?"

"Who Scott? Scott's home. He said he wanted to get a good night's sleep before the first day back at school tomorrow," he lied seamlessly, using my brother's excuse from before. "It's just me. In the woods. Alone."

"Mmhmm. And Sophie?"

"Sophie's home too. She had to…pick her outfit. You know how girls can be—"

Before I could get offended at Stiles' significantly _less _impressive and appallingly sexist lie regarding my whereabouts, another dog emerged through the trees and barked loudly at me, causing me to yelp and jump to the side—placing me directly in the sheriff's line of sight. I swore under my breath. Plastering on the most innocent smile I could muster, I turned around and gave a small, sheepish wave. "Hi, Sheriff. Nice night, isn't it?"

Stiles groaned in exasperation while the Sheriff Stilinski offered me a kind smile. "Hi, Sophie. What are you doing out here?"

I racked my brain for a reasonable excuse, but for some reason, "my idiot best friend convinced me and my idiot brother to come out into the middle of the woods at 11:30 on a school night, in the rain, to search for a body that may or may not have been chopped in half by s serial-killing psychopath with a thing for bad eighties horror movies" didn't quite seem like a valid excuse. So instead, I went with what was guaranteed to get me out of trouble.

"It's all Stiles' fault."

"Hey!" the boy next to me protested loudly, throwing his hands up. I could already see him beginning to formulate a sarcastic response, but his father shut him up with a glare.

"So the two of you are out here…alone?" he asked, his voice thick with implication, eyebrows raised as he scrutinized our expressions.

My eyes widened as I shook my head frantically. "What? You mean like…_alone _alone? No! Me and _Stiles_? No way. Nope. No. Definitely not. No."

"You know, I simple 'no' would have sufficed," Stiles muttered, crossing his arms and glowering at me. I shot him an apologetic look and shrugged sheepishly, while the sheriff rolled his eyes.

"So Scott isn't out here somewhere?" he asked, shining his flashlight into the trees behind us.

I shook my head. "No sir. Tryouts are tomorrow, it's a big day for him."

"Scott?" the sheriff called out. I silently prayed that he would be smart enough to stay hidden. "You out there? Scott?"

Thankfully, there was no reply, only the sound of more dogs barking in the distance, crickets chirping, and raindrops hitting the leaves above us.

Satisfied, the sheriff sighed. "Well young man, I'm gonna walk you back to you car," he said, grabbing Stiles by the back of his neck and me by my left arm. "And then you and I, we're going to have a conversation about something called invasion of privacy."

"Since I didn't invade anyone's privacy, am I off the hook?" I asked hopefully as the sheriff shuffled us along. I glanced behind us to see if I could catch a glimpse of Scott anywhere, but if he was still there, he was well hidden.

The sheriff chuckled. Oh no, young lady, you and I get to have a conversation about trespassing. And the illegality of it."

My only response was to scowl at Stiles.

* * *

><p>"Mom!" I yelled frantically as I searched my bedroom in a panic, flipping up the bed sheets and checking under the bed. "Moooom! Have you seen my left shoe? The black one?"<p>

"I am not the shoe fairy!" My mom yelled up the stairs to me, and I groaned.

"But if you were?" I hollered back, checking under the bed yet again, hoping that maybe my missing sneaker had somehow materialized there within in the last fifteen seconds.

"Next to the garage door!"

I grinned, picked up my backpack, and took the stairs two at a time. "Thanks mom," I said sweetly, dropping a kiss on the top of her curls as I passed through the kitchen to retrieve my missing shoe. I joined her at the kitchen table where she was enjoying her morning cup of coffee and reading the newspaper, already in her scrubs, ready for work.

"Do you have everything?" she asked, glancing up at me from the article she had been reading.

I nodded as a tied my shoes and stole a sip from her coffee cup. "Yep," I replied, zipping up my backpack. "All set. Did Scott leave already?"

She nodded. "He took his bike about ten minutes ago, said he wanted to clear his head. He's probably just worried about tryouts."

I frowned. "I wanted to talk to him about…something," I said, catching myself.

Mom arched an eyebrow and gave me a quizzical look. "Something, hm? What kind of something?"

I laughed nervously as I stood up to get food from the kitchen. "Oh, you know, nothing important. Just wanted to wish him luck. First day back and all." I cringed at how bad my lie was as I picked up a knife to smear peanut butter onto a piece of bread.

"So, you didn't want to talk to him about how you nearly got arrested for trespassing last night?"

My eyes widened, and I nearly choked on the bite of bread in my mouth. "What?"

Mom rolled her eyes and stood up, placing the newspaper down on the table and crossing her arms. "Don't play dumb with me young lady, the sheriff called this morning. Said he dropped you off last night, after he caught you and Stiles snooping around the preserve."

I gulped. "I mean, he wouldn't have _actually _arrested me," I said slowly, hiding my face behind my hair. "He was just…you know…trying to scare me."

"Did it work?"

I bit my lip. "If I say yes, am I off the hook?"

Mom rolled her eyes as she picked up her keys. "I don't know why I let you two hang out with that kid," she said with a head shake and a sigh. "Come on, I'll drop you off on the way to the hospital."

The parking lot of the high school was already swarming with kids by the time my mother stalled the car in front of the old, brick face building to let me out. With a sigh, I gave her a kiss on the cheek, told her I would see her that night, and climbed out, mentally preparing myself for the front lines.

I spotted my brother tying up his bike, and decided now was as good a time as any to interrogate him about the events of the night before. I shouldered my bag and walked over, but not before I was nearly run over by a speeding silver Porsche as it zipped by me and swerved into the spot right next to the bike rack where Scott was chaining up his bike. I watched as the owner opened the door, slamming it into my brother's legs before glaring at him and saying, "Dude. Watch the paint job."

"Scott!" I called, jogging to meet him and distracting the captain of the lacrosse team. "There you are."

"Yo, Jackson, let's go!" One of Jackson's goons called from the front steps of the school. With one final look of distaste, he turned around and headed for the building, leaving me and Scott standing on the curb.

I sighed. "What an ass," I remarked sourly, crossing my arms.

Scott only shrugged in response, before pushing past me and walking over to where Stiles was parking his Jeep. I frowned, but followed after him anyway, eager to discover what had happened after Stiles and I had left—or, more accurately, been removed—last night.

"So, let's see this thing," Stiles quipped keenly, as he shouldered his backpack and joined my brother and me on the sidewalk.

I raised an eyebrow. "See what thing?" I asked, crossing my arms and looking between the two of them. No one said anything, but after a moment Scott lifted the corner of his shirt with a sigh. I gasped.

"Scott, what the hell?" I asked incredulously. "What the hell happened?!" My hands flew to my mouth. Covering most of my twin's side was a large, white surgical pad that was stained red with blood. Eyes wide, I looked up at him. "Scotty, what did you do to yourself?"

"It was too dark to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," he told us, pulling his shirt back down with a wince.

Stiles chuckled. "A wolf bit you? No, not a chance," he said, a bemused expression resting on his face.

"I heard a wolf howling."

"No, you didn't!" Stiles insisted, shrugging.

"What do you mean 'no I didn't?' How do you know what I heard?"

"Because California doesn't have wolves, Scott, not for like, sixty years," Stiles informed him.

"Really?" Scott asked, confusion etched on his face. I stepped between the two of them, shaking my head.

"Okay, Scott, yes, Stiles is right. There are no wolves in California, not even in Northern California. But am I the only one who is seriously freaked out the _giant bloody wound _in your side? Shouldn't we be, oh I don't know, taking you to a _hospital_?" I cried incredulously, throwing my hands up and attracting several strange looks from nearby students. I lowered my voice. "You're going to need a rabies shot, and you've probably lost a lot of blood, from the looks of it…are you feeling lightheaded at all? Maybe you should go home. I can call mom! I can—"

Scott cut me off with a laugh, taking my shaking hands in his and squeezing. "Soph, it's fine. I'm fine! It doesn't even hurt." He paused, then looked at Stiles. "But if you guys don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me when I tell you that...I found the body."

My eyes widened, and Stiles' whole body twitched with excitement. "Are you kidding me?" he exclaimed, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

Scott shook his head. "I wish. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month."

I raised my eyebrows. "And you didn't call the cops?" I asked disbelievingly, breathless.

Stiles shot me a look. "No, Sophie, he didn't call the cops! Because _obviously_ we're gonna go back and find it this afternoon, _right_?"

"Stiles, no, you can't just—"

"This is freaking awesome," he went on, ignoring me completely. "I mean, seriously, this is gonna be the greatest thing since…since…siiiince the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey Lydia, you look…like you're gonna ignore me." He trailed off as the redhead sauntered past us, snubbing the three of us and instead giggling to the girl trailing behind her.

Stiles groaned and turned back to face us. "You two are the cause of this, you know?"

"Excuse me?" I sniffed, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my eyebrows.

"Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association," Stiles clarified, scowling.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that's why Lydia Martin doesn't know you exist," I laughed, looping my arms through my best friends' and dragging them up the front steps as the bell screamed above us.

"No for real. I've been scarlet-nerded by you."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever, geek. Get to class."

* * *

><p>"As you know, there indeed was a body found in the woods last night," Mr. Curtis drawled as he scribbled instructions on the chalkboard. I nudged Stiles' back with my sneaker, giving him a knowing look when he turned back to look at me. He raised his eyebrows and winked at me, then nodded to Scott, who was squirming in his seat, looking nervous. "And I'm sure your eager little minds are coming up with various macabre scenarios as to what happened." the balding English teacher droned on, turning to face the class. "But I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody, which means you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk, outlining the semester."<p>

I leaned forward and tapped Stiles' shoulder while the rest of the class began to read through the syllabi in front of them. "Suspect?" I whispered quizzically. "Do you know anything about that?"

"Not a clue," he replied without looking back at me. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with this, McCall." I could hear the smirk in his voice.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm still curious, Stilinski," I shot back, lowering my voice. "Especially if Scott thinks he found the body. You don't think they know he was there, do you?"

"Nah, I would have _definitely_ heard about that. I can ask my dad though."

"Do you believe him? About finding the body?"

Stiles rotated in his seat to meet my eyes. "Do you believe him about the wolf?"

Before I could reply, however, the door swung open and the principal walked in, followed by a pretty girl I had never seen before. "Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome." The girl gave a small smile and tucked a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear, clearly feeling awkward under the scrutiny of the entire class. She spotted an empty seat behind Scott—next to me—and made a beeline.

"We'll begin with Kafka's metamorphosis on page 143," Curtis announced loudly, drawing the attention away from the new girl and back onto himself. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god, Econ with Coach is gonna <em>suck<em>," I groaned as my body slumped into the locker beside my brother's. "Who gave that man a license to teach high school? He _hates_ teenagers! I straightened up and opened my mouth to say more, before I realized that Scott hadn't heard a word I had said. Across the hall, Allison Argent was at her locker, and Scott was…well, Scott was staring. She flashed him a winning smile, and I arched an eyebrow. "Huh. What do you know? New girl is totally into you."

Scott blinked and turned to look at me. "Huh? Did you say something?"

I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to Allison, who was now being barraged by none other than Lydia Martin and her boyfriend, Jackson Whittemore.

"Can someone tell me New Girl is here all of five minutes and she's already part of Lydia's clique?" Harley Thompson asked skeptically as she walked past.

"Because she's hot," Stiles explained simply, joining us with his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Beautiful people herd together."

I scoffed. "Just like us nerds herd together. Come on boys, let's get you two to practice."

* * *

><p>I left the boys to go get changed while I made my way to the filed to grab a seat in the stands. Simply saying that lacrosse at Beacon Hills was a big deal would have been a massive understatement. Beacon Hills dominated the league, winning the state championship three years straight and making every guy on the time—well, every guy on <em>first line<em>—high school royalty. And the _entire_ student body usually attended every event—tryouts, practices, scrimmages, and especially games. I nabbed a spot in the middle of the bleachers and looked on, spotting my brother and Stiles as they jogged onto the field.

"Hey, you're in my English class, right?" a voice asked from above me.

I squinted against the sun's harsh rays and saw, surprisingly, Allison Argent smiling down at me. I blinked. "Um, yeah, I think so. First period with Curtis, right?" I asked, pretending like I didn't know exactly who she was.

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah. Is there anybody sitting here?" She motioned to the open seat beside me, and I shook my head.

"Nope, it's all yours."

She smiled again, taking a seat and offered me her hand to shake. "I'm Allison."

I shook her outstretched hand. "Sophie," I told her, smiling kindly. "So, do you like lacrosse?" I asked her, nodding down to the field.

She blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Honestly? I don't really know anything about it. Football was kind of a big deal at my old school."

I nodded in understanding. "Well, our football team sucks. But lacrosse is a huge deal here, we've won State the past three years," I informed her.

"Thanks to our _fabulous_ team captain," a perky, sickly sweet voice chimed in.

"Hey Lydia," Allison greeted the redhead as she sat down next to her. "Do you know—"

"Sasha, right?" Lydia said to me, smiling at me. "You moved here a few years ago, right?"

I blinked. "Um, Sophie, actually," I corrected her. "And I've been in your class since Kindergarten. We did our fifth grade science project together?"

Lydia cocked her head to one side in thought. "Really?"

I rolled my eyes and Allison smiled at me apologetically. I turned my attention back to the field, where Stiles was taking his usual spot on the bench and Coach was handing Scott a goalie's stick. "Oh god," I said blandly, crossing my arms and leaning back. "He is going to get himself killed."

"Who is that?" Allison asked the two of us, motioning to Scott.

Lydia shrugged. "Him? I'm not sure who he is," she admitted passively, examining her manicure.

I snickered and bit down on my lip to keep myself from outright laughter. "That's my twin, Scott," I told Allison. I tilted my head to the side. "Why?"

"Oh…he's in my English class." She explained, then shook her head. "So, twins? I wouldn't have guess that, you two don't look alike," she changed the subject.

I shrugged. "Yeah, we get that a lot," I told her as Scott stood up on the field. "I'm a lot paler than he is," I added with a laugh.

"What stimulating conversation," Lydia remarked with a sigh. I opened my mouth to retort, but before our conversation could continue Coach Finstock had blown into his whistle, and tryouts were underway.

I watched as the players hustled into line and Scott shuffled over to the goalie's net, and despite the facemask I could tell that he was a bundle of nerves. He looked up at the stands, and I shot him a wide smile and a thumbs up, and Allison gave him a small wave. His face broke into a grin, and something told me it didn't have anything to do with me.

Coach blew his whistle again, and the first player, a veteran on the team named Mark, jogged forward, scooped up a ball, and charged for the goal. He lobbed the ball straight at the goal…and right into my brother's face. I winced as the force from the ball literally knocked him to the ground, and I nervously clenched my hands into fists, grimacing as most of the players and spectators laughed. "Come on Scott," I breathed, leaning forward on my knees. "You got this."

The next player, another veteran, wound up and hurled the ball, but this time, almost as if he had heard me, Scott moved with a speed I'd never seen before and _caught the ball_. It was all I could do not to jump up and scream for him as he caught the next shot, and the next one, and the one after _that. _Every ball that came at him, he caught.

"He seems like he's pretty good," Allison remarked, clearly impressed.

"Yeah, very good," Lydia replied, her eyebrows raised—clearly, she was as shocked as I was.

I watched as Scott caught the final shot before Coach blew the whistle, and beamed as the spectators actually stood up and cheered for him, an enormous sense of pride filling me from head to toe.

* * *

><p>"I don't know what it was! It was like…like I had all the time in the world to catch the ball!" Scott exclaimed excitedly as he splashed through the creek. Stiles gripped my arm to help me cross on a log as Scott continued to reminisce about his adventures off the bench. "And that's not the only weird thing. I hear stuff I shouldn't be able to hear, smell things…"<p>

I hopped down off the log and landed next to Scott, who held up a branch so I could cross under. We were back in the woods of the preserve, trudging through mud and branches in search of my brother's inhaler. Naturally, he had managed to lose it the night before, and now we were combing the brush to find it, in vain hope that we wouldn't have to pay for a replacement. Of course, Stiles was under the impression we were searching for the upper half of a dead body—but I wasn't about to tell him otherwise and receive a fifteen-minute lecture about nothing ever happened in this town.

"Smell things?" I questioned, gripping onto my twin's shoulder for support as I stepped over a particularly deep ditch. "Like what?"

"Like the mint-mojito gum in Stiles' pocket. And…Sophie's lip-gloss. It's like…cherry, or something."

I licked my lips. Had I put on cherry that morning? I couldn't even remember, but sure enough, I could taste the artificial cherry flavor. I arched an eyebrow at Scott while Stiles rooted around in the pocket of his jacket. "I don't even have mint-mojito gum in my—" his face went blank, and I glanced down at his hand—clenched between his fingers was, sure enough, a stick of bright green gum.

"So this all started with a bite?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Scott nodded. "What it it's like an infection? What if my body's flooding with adrenaline before I go into shock or something?"

"This is why I told you this morning we should have taken you to a hospital, right _Stiles_?" I said pointedly, but the skinny boy ignored me.

"You know what, I actually think I've heard of this," he said matter-of-factly. "It's a specific type of infection."

"Are you serious?" Scott questioned, stopping dead in his tracks.

Stiles nodded, his hands on his hips and a grin playing at his lips. "Yeah, I think it's called…lycanthopy."

I pressed my lips together in a hard line to keep from laughing and crossed my arms, but Scott wasn't as quick to pick up on our friend's joke. Instead, his eyes widened as he wracked his brain for what the word 'lycanthropy' could possibly mean. "What's that?" He asked incredulously. "Is that bad?"

"Oh yeah, it's the worst," I chimed in, moving to stand beside my brother. "But only once a month." Stiles smirked at me from behind Scott's back, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from laughing.

"Once a month?"

"Uh huh," Stiles replied, moving to stand next to me and slinging an arm around my shoulders. "On the night of the full moon." His face remained gravely serious for a few more seconds, before he threw back his head and howled, imitating a wolf's cry. I joined in and laughed when Scott's face transformed from terrified to annoyed as he realized that we were mocking him. He punched Stiles hard in the shoulder and shot me a dirty look. "Hey, you're the one who heard a wolf howling," Stiles said, still laughing as he held his arms up in surrender.

"It's not funny, there could be something seriously wrong with me!" Scott exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"I know, you're a werewolf!" Stiles replied, grinning from ear to ear.

I rolled my eyes as I scanned the clearing we had stopped in for Scott's missing inhaler. "Okay, Scott, obviously we're joking. But if you see me melting down all of mom's good silverware after work, it's because the full moon is on Friday." I tossed a playful glance over my shoulder at my twin, who only scowled in response. He opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it and tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"I could have sworn this was it…" he trailed off, scanning the ground. "I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler." H swiveled, checking and double checking the ground beneath our feet, to no avail.

"Maybe the killer moved the body," Stile suggested, earning glares from both me and Scott.

"Don't say things like that," I growled at him, crossing my arms. "I don't want there to be a killer out here. Especially if you and Scott are the only protection I've got."

"Hey, I—" Stiles began to defend himself, but Scott cut him off.

"Well, if he did hide the body, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like, eighty bucks."

I stood up and shot Stiles a "_if you don't quit talking about murderers there is going to be more than one dead body in these woods" _look, and he only gave me a wink and a smirk in reply. I rolled my eyes and prepared to retort with a snide comment, when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, shooting chills down my spine. Somebody was watching us, I could feel it.

I turned around slowly, and sure enough there stood a man not two yards off from where we were. Maybe a few years older than us, he was dressed in all black, and wore a stony expression that chilled me to the bone. Nervously, I cleared my throat. "Um, guys?" I said uneasily, moving closer to my brother. "We have company."

Stiles turned around, realized that we weren't alone anymore, then smacked Scott on the arm. "Dude."

I stepped further backwards to stand behind Stiles' shoulder as the man walked forwards. "What are you doing here?" He asked flatly, his eyes flashing. "Hm? This is private property."

Stiles cleared his throat. "Um, sorry man. We didn't know."

"Yeah we were just…we were looking for something, but, um, forget it," Scott said lamely. I watched on silently as the man reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out something small and silver—Scott's inhaler. He tossed it to him without a word. As soon as Scott caught it, the man turned his back and retreated wordlessly back into the woods.

I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding, and shook my head. "Well, boys, I don't know about you but I've been thoroughly creeped the hell out, so if you don't mind, Stiles, I'd appreciate it if you could drive me and Scott to work—"

"Dude, that was Derek Hale!" Stiles informed me excitedly, smacking my arm lightly. "You remember, right? He's only like a few years older than us."

"Remember what?" Scott asked, tucking his inhaler into the pocket of his jeans.

"His family? They all burned to death in a fire, like ten years ago," Stiles explained, as if it were common knowledge and the McCall twins were idiots for not knowing.

"Wonder what he's doing back?" Scott wondered aloud, but I shrugged.

"Who cares? We're going to be late for work. Scott, _let's go_." And without another word, I dragged Scott and Stiles back to the Jeep, refusing to listen to one more comment about the mysterious murder victim, or Derek Hale.

* * *

><p>"Come on, Scott."<p>

"No!"

"Dude, yes! I'm not dragging your ass to the hospital, the least you can do is let me look at it. I'd like to make sure you're not, oh I don't know, _dying_."

Scott glared at me as his hand hovered protectively over the right side of his covered torso. "Well then maybe you shouldn't come at me with a giant needle?" he said meekly, motioning to the thin needle I held in my hand. "Maybe?"

I rolled my eyes as I lowered the needle. "Scott, I've done tons of animal bite stitches on dogs. It's not like I don't know what I'm doing." I took a tentative step closer to my twin and gave him a reassuring look. "Just let me see it, okay?" I asked him, my voice softening.

Scott sighed audibly, closing his eyes. "Fine, I'll let you look at it. But I'm not letting you stitch anything."

I smiled at him gratefully. "Deal." I grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a handful of cotton balls, and took Scott's hand, leading him into the staff bathroom. "Come on, let's see it." I motioned for him to lift up his shirt, and he begrudgingly obliged, bringing the shirt up over his abdomen and throwing it into the sink. Tenderly, I gripped the edges of the surgical tape and gently peeled back the bandage. When I saw what lay underneath, my forehead creased and I frowned. "What the hell?" I murmured.

"What?" Scott asked frantically, his voice rising in pitch.

I set my jaw and crossed my arms, getting increasingly agitated with every passing second. "Is this why you didn't want me to see? Because you're playing some kind of sick joke on me and Stiles?"

"What? Sophie—"

"Not cool, Scott. I seriously thought you were hurt." I turned to leave the bathroom, but Scott grabbed my arm to stop me.

"Soph, what are you talking about?"

I gave him an exasperated look, and turned him so he could see his exposed torso in the mirror's reflection.

There was no bite—only smooth, tan skin. "Next time you want to prank me, can you not do it with potentially life threatening animal bite scenarios?"

Scott shook his head as he ran his hand up and down his side. "No, Sophie, I swear to god, it was there, I don't know what happened."

I laughed curtly. "Mmhmm. Okay, werewolf boy. You had your laugh, now it's time for you to get back to work. You're not getting paid minimum wage to sit around and show off your abs." I picked up his shirt and threw it at his head, smiling with satisfaction as it bounced off his stunned face.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket as I went back into the back room to retrieve my backpack. _I think I found out what your idiot best friend is suffering from," _I typed out, hitting send. A few seconds later, a reply from Stiles came in.

_No way?_

_Yes way. It's an acute form of douchebaggery. All clear._ I glanced out the window as I clocked out—it was pouring down rain. _ Can you come pick me up? Was gonna walk, but now it's raining like hell.  
><em>

_ Sure, gimme 15?_

_ You're the best._

I sighed deeply as I shut off the light and went into the front waiting room, dropping down into one of the chairs. At least I knew Scott was okay. But somehow, for reasons unknown to me, there was still a persisting feeling that yanked at my gut, telling me that there was still cause for me to worry.

* * *

><p>Friday night, I found myself standing in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection. Scott had convinced me to take Stiles to this stupid party—I hadn't <em>technically<em> been invited, but he insisted that it had been Allison's idea—and considering how I'd never _actually_ been to a real party before, I had no idea what to wear. So after spending entirely too much digging through the contents of my closet, I had ended up in jeans, a shirt I'd stolen from my mom's closet, and the same old beat up, dirty Converse I wore every day. "And that's as good as it's gonna get." I muttered to myself as I smoothed down the fabric of the shirt. I crossed the hall to my brother's room, where I found my mother already waiting for him.

"You look pretty," she told me with a smile as she held me at an arm's length to survey my outfit. "Is that my shirt?"

I blushed. "Yeah," I admitted sheepishly as I turned my feet inward and rocked back on my heels. "Sorry, I should have asked."

She smiled and shook her head. "No, don't worry about it…you look great, sweetheart."

I grinned. "Must be genetic, then." She laughed and shook her head at me, just as Scott emerged from his bathroom, hair wet, towel wrapped around his waist. He jumped when he realized that the entire McCall clan was already waiting for him in his bedroom.

"Uh, guys? Towel?"

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Scotty, we shared a womb." I reminded him as I ran a hand through my long hair. He shot me a look as he moved over to his dresser.

"So is this a party, or a date?" Mom asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against his doorframe.

"Maybe both…" he answered slowly, and I couldn't help but smile at the nerves that showed in his voice.

"And her name is?" Mom inquired, eyebrows raised.

"Allison," I answered for my twin, grinning coyly as I flopped onto the edge of Scott's bed. "Her name is Allison." Scott gave me a pinched expression, to which I replied by sticking my tongue out at him.

"Allison…" Mom trailed off thoughtfully. "Nice." She nodded slowly in approval, as if a single name held all the traits of a person's personality. She reached into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a set of keys, holding them out to Scott.

His eyes widened and he took them from her hand. "Thank you," he said genuinely, his smile spreading.

"We don't need to have a talk, do we?" she asked. The color drained from Scott's face.

"Mom, I am not having the safe sex talk with you!"

I burst out laughing—our mother's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "No, I meant about keeping the tank full!" She cried, reaching back for the keys and yanking them out of Scott's hand. "Give me those, your sister is driving."

"Are you serious?!"

"You bet your ass I'm serious! I am not going to end up on some reality TV show with a pregnant sixteen year old, come on!"

I giggled and stood up from my perch on the end of my brother's bed. "As much as I would _love_ to embarrass my dear, sweet brother by paying chauffer tonight, I can't. I already have a date."

Mom lifted an eyebrow. "Do I need to have the safe sex talk with _you_?"

I grimaced and mimed gagging. "Oh god, mom, no. I'm going with Stiles."

She sighed in relief. "Well, keep an eye on your brother. I'm worried about him now," she said apprehensively with a groan.

I chuckled. "Will do, mom." I dropped a kiss on her cheek then turned to head down the stairs. "Scott, hurry up so you can drive me to Stiles' some time before I turn seventeen, please!"

I heard him grumble. "Give me ten minutes, spaz."

* * *

><p>"Stiles, are you ready? Your dad let me in—whoa." I breathed out as I opened my best friend's bedroom door to see what could only be described as hurricane level destruction within. Papers were strewn about every flat surface, a handful of books lay open on the bed, a handful more lay on their side <em>beside <em>the bed, his printer was somehow _still _spewing freshly printed pages, full of tiny, dark lettering and colorful images, and there was an empty bottle of Adderall lying beside his open laptop. Eyes wide, I sidestepped the mess to peak into the closet where Stiles was digging through discarded piles of clothes. "What happened in here?"

"Sophie!" Stiles exclaimed, jumping up and nearly smacking his head on the closet door. "I didn't hear you come in." He yanked a plain white t-shirt over his head and I crossed my arms.

"Yeah, your dad let me in. Why aren't you ready yet? I told you, I would be here at—"

Stiles shook his head vigorously. "I have to show you something," he said, his voice rushed. "We have a problem. A _serious_ problem."

I raised an eyebrow. "How much Adderall have you had today?"

"A lot, but that doesn't matter. I need you to hear me out, okay?" he implored, grabbing my shoulders and steering me to his desk chair. "Look at this." He pulled up a webpage with an article entitled _Lycanthropy: The Mythology and History of the Modern Werewolf._

I gazed up at him skeptically. "Really, Stilinski? You're in on this too?"

"What? No," Stiles shook his head vigorously, placing his hand beside mine on the desk. "Okay, so yes the other day I was joking about Scott being bitten by a werewolf, but that's the thing—I don't think it's a joke anymore." He was rushing his words, trying to get everything out as quickly as possible. I crossed my arms and waited for him to finish. "Scott said he heard a wolf howling, right? Well, my dad was on the phone with the lab from LA yesterday. The fiber analysis came back, and hey found animal hairs on the body!"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so it wasn't a murder, it was an animal attack. Big deal, there's mountain lions all over the woods out here. It's not like it hasn't happened before."

Stiles shook his head. "No, Sophie, it was a _wolf_. Just like Scott said."

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples as I leaned forward to lean on my knees. "Okay, well, wolves are migratory, right? Maybe he did hear a wolf. But Stiles…" I sighed and touched his arm. "I think you've been watching too many bad eighties movies. Scott was screwing with us. I checked the so-called 'bite' yesterday, it didn't exist."

"Or it healed."

"What?"

He straightened up and reached over me to scroll down the webpage, then turned the screen to face me. "Look—accelerated healing. If he was bitten, it would have healed, right?"

"Stiles, I seriously cannot believe you're going all Bella Swan on me!" I groaned, leaning back in his desk chair and looking up at him earnestly. "Just because you googled some stuff about werewolves doesn't mean it's _true_."

"Look, Scott didn't believe me either."

"Scott was here? When?"

"Before he went back to your place to get ready." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, something he only did when he was nervous. "Look, Sophie, the full moon is tonight. And Scott's going to this party with _Allison_."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. "And let me guess—he's going to turn into a werewolf?" I crossed my legs and tapped a fingernail on the arm of the chair. "Do you think he'll eat her?" I asked him, dropping my voice as the corners of my lips turned upward.

Stiles groaned. "No, but he _might_ hurt her." With no change in my blank expression, he grabbed the laptop and found another section for me to read, determined to make me believe. "Look at this—this whole paragraph is about heightened senses, faster reflexes. He said he could sell your lip-gloss in the woods, right?"

"Well yeah, but he wasn't standing that far from me," I rationalized.

"Are you wearing lip-gloss right now?"

"Yeah?"

"What flavor?"

"Vanilla. Seriously, Stiles, can we just g—"

"Okay, Sophie, _I_ can't tell you're wearing vanilla lip-gloss, and I'm standing less than a foot from you. Because _normal_ people can't smell like that! And I mean, haven't you noticed he hasn't needed his inhaler in like, three days? And considering how he's been playing, he should definitely be needing it."

I shrugged. "Maybe it's the adrenaline."

"Yeah okay. But you _have_ noticed how he's been playing." Stiles crossed his arms and gave me a pointed look. "Everyone has. And you know he's _never _been good at lacrosse like that before."

I scowled and stood up. "So you're saying because Scott practiced and got better at a sport, that makes him a supernatural creature of the night?" I laughed curtly. "Stiles, I think maybe it might be in your best interest to stick to the _prescribed_ dosage of Adderall from now on."

Stiles grabbed my wrist as I turned around to keep me from leaving. "Okay, yes, he did get better! But you _saw_ him on the field Soph. Reflexes like that just don't develop overnight."

I scoffed and yanked my hand from Stiles' grasp. "Okay, so let's say for argument's my brother is a werewolf. What do you think he's gonna do, go on a psychotic killing spree?"

Stiles eyes pleaded with mine. "Maybe."

I dismissed his word with a wave of my hand. "Stiles, the three of us grew up together. You _know_ Scott, you know he wouldn't hurt a fly. Supernatural puppy powers or not."

"Yeah, well, you didn't see him earlier." Stiles countered with a grave expression.

"He was fine when I saw him, which ,by the way, was less than ten minutes ago."

"He threatened to kill me, Sophie."

I blinked. "What?"

Stiles nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, not making eye contact with me. "He threw me against that wall and nearly…" he shook his head. "Look at the back of the chair," he instructed me, motioning to the desk chair I had been sitting in before. I turned it around to see the back—and saw the long, jagged rip marks straight down the middle. Rips that strangely resembled claw marks. "When he thre me against the wall, he realized what he was doing. And he got really pissed at himself, and he did…well, that. What was that about not hurting a fly, Soph?"

I shook my head slowly, straightening up, one hand covering my mouth as I attempted to process everything that I was being told. "Stiles…I just…I don't know…"

Stiles took my hand and gently pulled me back towards his desk, where he picked up a book, opened it to a dog-eared page, and handed it to me. "Read that," he ordered me gently, pointing to the beginning of a paragraph in the middle of the page.

Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I took the book from him and cleared my throat. "'The change can be caused by anger, or anything that raises the pulse.' Okay?"

"Do you think a girl like Allison can raise Scott's pulse pretty significantly?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Sophie."

"Okay, so let's say that hypothetically that Scott is turning into some furry monster tonight, and he's going to Lydia's party, and he's going with Allison. He wouldn't hurt her in front of all those people."

"Maybe not consciously. But it's not_ just_ a physical change. His bloodlust will be at his highest tonight."

I sighed and closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and my forefinger. "Stiles…I just don't know about this. I think maybe you need to take a nap or something, I don't know. You're kind of freaking me out."

I turned on my heel and walked out of his room, but he followed after me and whirled me around so that I was facing him again, his hands resting on my upper arms and holding me in place. "Do you think I don't know how totally out of my freaking mind I sound right now, Sophie? Please," he begged, pulling me a fraction of a hair closer. "Please just trust me on this. Just for the next hour or so, and if I turn out to be wrong you can lock me up in the nuthouse and throw away the key, but for tonight, I'm asking you to trust me." His brown eyes searched mine earnestly, beseeching, pleading. I sighed, releasing a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

"Fine. I'm trusting you. But I'm not saying I believe you."

"That's all I'm asking.

I sighed. "Then let's go stop my psychotic brother from mauling his date, shall we?"

* * *

><p>The party was in full swing by the time Stiles finally pulled his Jeep to a stop beside the curb in front of Lydia's house. I could hear the music even from the driveway, pounding loud and fast.<p>

The party was something straight out of a movie. As soon as I walked in, I was hit with the powerful smell of strong liquor and hormones—it was nauseating. Music blasted from large speakers that Lydia had strategically placed around the entire house, and there was enough alcohol lying around to supply a small city. The living room was packed with bodies, all moving back and forth to the beat of the music and eliminating all concepts of personal space. As soon as we were in the door, I stood up on tiptoes to try to find to Scott and Allison, but my short stature prevented me from seeing much of anything. I turned to Stiles and yanked on his sleeve to get his attention. "Do you see Scott?" I asked over the noise of the party, still standing on tiptoes so the taller boy could hear me.

He looked around, then shrugged and turned back to me. "Not yet," he practically shouted at me. "Maybe at back?"

I nodded, and allowed myself to be pulled through the crowd, weaving in and out and in between dancing groups of people. Out on the back porch it was just as crowded as it had been inside, but the cool spring air gave me more room to breathe and collect my thoughts. I made my way to the edge of the patio, craning my neck to scan the crowd, but again to no avail. "Stiles, can you see him at all?"

He nodded in relief. "Look, down there. He's dancing with her."

I pulled down on my friend's shoulder and stood on my toes to see. Sure enough, Scott and Allison were down beside the pool, dancing closely together, her arms wrapped around his neck and his around her waist And Scott looked fine. I turned Stiles around so he was looking at me. "See? I told you, he'd be fine." Stiles looked down at me with uncertainty, but he didn't argue—for once. I took his hand and pulled him back into the house. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm at a party, I'm with my best friend, and I'm going to have some fun."

The side of Stiles' mouth quirked up in a smile. "I thought you thought parties were stupid," he pointed out, raising his eyebrows. I shrugged and picked up a plastic red cup from a nearby table

"When in Rome, right?"

I couldn't lie—once I got into the swing of things, I was having fun. Stiles was beside me dancing like a spaz, I had a drink in my hand, the music was some song that I didn't recognize that had bass so heavy I could feel it in my stomach, and I was, to my immense surprise, having _fun_.

That was, until Stiles grabbed my arm and turned me around, so I could see my brother stumbling back into the living room, alone, clutching his head and moaning. "Yo, Scott, you good?" Stiles asked, reaching out to steady him.

"Scott!" I heard Allison's voice call from the door as she tried to shove her way through the crowd to get to him.

"Oh no, not good," Stiles muttered, and I grabbed a hold of his arm.

"Has he been drinking?"

"No, I think it's happening. We gotta go, now."

I let Stiles pull me back through the party, and as soon as we were free of the suffocating madness, we sprinted down to the Jeep. "What about Allison?" I asked breathlessly as he shoved the key into the ignition.

Stiles turned to look back up at the driveway, then pointed to where she was climbing into the passenger seat of a sleek black Camaro. "Look, she's getting a ride from Derek, she's fine."

"Is now a bad time to say I still think you're totally crazy?"

"Sophie, right now _I_ think I'm totally crazy."

* * *

><p>The Jeep came to a screeching halt as Stiles parked it in front of our house, and I burst out the door and up the front steps before Stiles could even pull the key out of the ignition. The front door was hanging wide open—Scott was here, all right. I flew up the stairs two at a time, Stiles just behind me, to see Scott's door shut. I yanked at the doorknob, but it was, predictably, locked. Beside me, Stiles banged a closed fist on the door. "Scott, it's me!"<p>

I could hear my twin's labored breathing coming from the other side of the door. "Scott, let us in," I called out. "Stiles, he can help!" My fist joined Stiles' in banging on the door, but to no avail—it wouldn't budge.

"No!" Scott yelled back, his breathing picking up in speed. "I don't want to hurt you!" I pushed harder on the door—with the speed of his breathing, it sounded like he was having an asthma attack. I had to get in there. "Listen, you have to find Allison," he finished, his voice cracking.

"She's fine, Scott, I saw her get a ride from the party, she's fine!" I told him. Just let us in Scotty, please, you're scaring me."

"No, I think I know who it is!"

Stiles shoved on the door with his shoulder. "Scott, just let me in! We can talk, just—"

"It's Derek, Stiles, Derek Hale is the werewolf! He's the one that bit me, he's the one who killed that girl in the woods!"

My eyes widened as they met Stiles'. "Scott, Derek's the one who drove Allison from the party," I said slowly, my hand reaching up to cover my gaping mouth. This couldn't be real. None of this was real. It couldn't be.

"Scott?!" Stiles yelled again, but now, the sound of Scott's heavy breathing had disappeared entirely, replaced by silence. I pressed my ear to the door.

"Stiles…" I said quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you hear that?"

He looked at me, his eyes wide with dread. "Uh huh. We have to go. Right now, we have to go _right now_."

In the distance, a wolf howled.

* * *

><p>"Stay here, okay?" Stiles ordered me as he flung the door of the Jeep open without even cutting the engine off, sprinting up the Argent's driveway and mashing on the doorbell.<p>

_God, this is fifty shades of crazy,_ I said to myself as I dialed Scott's cell number for what felt like the millionth time. And for the millionth time, it went straight to voicemail. _Werewolves aren't real. This isn't real. This can't be real._

I watched as a tall, redheaded woman opened the door, and Stiles began talking a mile at a minute—I couldn't hear what he was saying, but I could see the speed at which he was moving his hands, and knew that he was spilling out the first excuse that came into his head.

But, to my relief, an irritated looking Allison appeared in the doorway, said something to Stiles, then shut the door. He hurried back to the car and shut the door behind him. "Okay, well, she's not dead."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't say."

"Anything from Scott?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, his phone is going straight to voicemail. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?"

Stiles shook his head as he began to drive towards the preserve. "None. You're his twin! Aren't you supposed to have like…twin telepathy, or something?"

I scoffed. "No, you idiot, I can't _sense_ where my werewolf brother is. Where are we going?"

Stiles sighed. "He was bitten at the preserve, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, maybe he went back. And that's where we're going."

* * *

><p>"Look there, I see him," I pointed groggily to a figure at the side of the road, my voice thick with fatigue, as sunlight began to filter through the tree branches above us. "That's him."<p>

Stiles nodded and slowed the Jeep to a stop, allowing me to climb into the back and Scott to wearily get in. The next ten minutes were spent in complete silence, the only sound coming from the running motor of the Jeep, until Scott finally groaned and said, "You know what actually worries me the most?"

"If you say Allison I am going to punch you in the head," I said bluntly, leaning my head back against the headrest.

"Yeah, make that two punches to the head," Stiles chimed in.

"She probably hates me now!"

Stiles sighed. "I doubt that."

"But you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology," I piped up from the backseat.

"Or you know, you could just tell her the truth," Stiles countered, a smile beginning to spread across his lips. "And revel in the awesomeness at the fact that you're a _freaking werewolf_." Both Scott and I flashed him a look, and he ducked his head. "Okay, bad idea."

"Hey, Scott, we'll get through this," I said softly, leaning forward and touching his arm. "Come on, if I have to, I'll chain you up myself on full moon nights, and I'll even feed you Stiles."

"Hey!" Our best friend protested from behind the wheel, but I patted his shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll figure it out, okay?" I went on, giving my twin's arm a squeeze. "We always do."


	2. Second Chance At First Line

**Chapter 2  
>Second Chance at First Line<strong>

"McCall, my grandmother can move faster than that, and she's dead!" Coach's voice boomed out across the field as he crouched beside my brother. "Do you think you can move faster than the lifeless corpse of my _dead grandmother_?" Scott said something in reply, and then Coach boomed, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MCCALL."

"Yes, Coach!" Scott yelled.

"McCall's gonna do it again! McCall is going to do it again!" Coach announced to the few spectators as Scott jogged back up to the front of the line. Scott was angry—I could tell from his body language, the way his back was hunched and his feet were anchored to the ground.

"Come on Scott," I murmured under my breath. "Stay calm. Just stay calm."

Coach blew his whistle, and Scott was off, faster than I could have thought, and he was _plowing_ into Jackson, knocking him straight off his feet and driving him into the ground.

I swore under my breath. Scott was on the ground, gripping his helmet with both hands. Stiles broke away from the line and rushed over, leaning over Scott and having a heated conversation. He dragged him up by his shoulder pads and met my eyes from across the field, motioning frantically for me to follow them. I grabbed my backpack and took off down the bleachers, heading for the locker room, when I was stopped dead in my tracks by none other than Derek Hale.

"You don't want to go in there," he said, his voice gruff.

I crossed my arms. "Excuse me?"

"I said, you don't want to go in there," he repeated, his tone flat and his face expressionless. I raised an eyebrow.

"And why is that?"

"Scott can't control his change right now. You might get hurt."

I stepped closer to the taller man. "Then Stiles is in there with him and that's all the more reason for me to help. Get out of my way." I surprised myself with my own audacity, but I couldn't help it—what was happening to Scott, what he was going through—I felt like it was partially my fault. I could have stopped Stiles from dragging us into the woods that night, I could have told the sheriff he was hiding behind that tree, I could have gone back for him instead of leaving him to wander home alone, and I hadn't done any of those. I felt guilty, and right now, he needed my help. Nobody was in any position to tell me I couldn't do that, not even Derek Hale.

Derek was clearly surprised by my pluck, and stepped to the side. But not without getting the last word. "You need to help him control it, or he'll get you all killed." And with that, he stalked off. I glared at his back. Had it been a threat? What reason did he have to care if Stiles or I got hurt?

I heard the loud screech of metal on metal, and decided to forget about for now. I burst into the locker room, prepared for the worst, only to find Scott on the floor, covered in white foam, and Stiles cowering behind a row of lockers with a fire extinguisher grasped between his hands.

"Scott?" I said quietly, crouching down beside him and slowly reaching my hand out. "Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly, his hands on his head, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I took in the state of disarray that the locker room was in—a row of lockers lay on their side, benches were thrown against walls, gear was _everywhere_. I stood up. "What the hell happened?" I directed my question to Stiles, who stood up and threw his gloves on the ground.

"He tried to kill me," he said simply, his breathing heavy.

"Are you okay?"

"Physically? Yes. Psychologically? Debatable." He sighed and sat down on one of the benches. "It's like I told you before, Scott, it's the anger, it's your pulse rising. It's a trigger."

"But that's lacrosse!" Scott protested. "It's a pretty violent game, if you hadn't noticed."

"Well it'll be a lot more violent if you end up killing someone on the field," I pointed out, patting his shoulder. Stiles nodded in agreement.

"You can't play Saturday, you're gonna have to get out of the game." He said, his mouth a hard line.

"But I'm first line," Scott said, his voice deflated.

Stiles sighed. "Not anymore."

* * *

><p>I knocked on the wall beside Scott's door, causing him to look up from the book he was reading. "Hey, Soph."<p>

"Hey, baby brother."

"Ten minutes, Sophie, ten minutes."

"And don't you forget it!" I said with a laugh, flopping down beside him on the bed. "Whatcha reading?"

Scott sighed. "Studying for Algebra."

"I'm good at math, you need any help?"

"I could use it, actually. Do you understand these factorials at all?"

I smiled as I pried the book from his hands and examined the problem. "Oh, yeah, this is easy. Look, all you have to do is—"

"Hey, you two, I hate to break up this Rockwell scene, but late shift again for me," our mom piped up from the door. "But, I am taking Saturday off to see your first game," she added with an excited smile.

"No, mom, you can't," Scott groaned, dropping his face into his pillow.

Mom raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I can and I will," she replied, coming into the room and sitting between us on the bed. "Come on, one shift isn't going to break us. Not completely."

"Maybe it isn't the greatest idea, mom." I said quietly, patting her arm. "I mean, money _has_ been pretty tight lately, and it's just one game…"

"No way, I am going to my son's first game as a first-line player! We'll be fine." She ran a hand through Scott's hair, then paused. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

Scott bolted upright. "What?"

"You look like you haven't slept for days," she said, concern etched in her voice.

Relief took over my brother's face as he realized that she wasn't talking about his…_other_ eyes. "Oh, it's nothing. Just…stressed," he said lamely. Mom raised an eyebrow and twirled her keys around her finger.

"Just stress? Nothing else?" She asked suspiciously. "I mean, it's not like you're on drugs or anything, right? Sophie, is he on drugs?"

"Right now?"

Her eyes widened. "_Right now?_ I'm sorry what do you mean 'right now'?! Has he _ever _taken drugs? Scott, have you ever taken drugs?"

"Have _you_?" he asked pointedly. I stifled my laughter with my hand as the wheels in our mother's head turned rapidly.

"I…uh..." she sighed. "Get some sleep. Both of you."

We both nodded in compliance, and she left us to finish our homework. Scott turned to me, a look of irritation fixed on his face, but before he could chastise me for throwing him under the bus, the sound of an incoming Skype call on his laptop interrupted him. He moved to his desk to answer it.

"Hey, Stiles," he greeted our friend with a sigh. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, it's bad," he said, fiddling with a nerf gun. "Hi, Sophie." I gave him a small wave, coming from behind Scott to lean against the desk beside him. "Jackson's got a separated shoulder."

"Because of me?" Scott asked, hanging his shoulders in guilt.

"Because he's a tool," Stiles countered.

"But is he gonna play?" I asked.

"Well they don't know yet," Stiles replied, scratching his head. "Now they're just counting on you for Saturday."

I groaned. "Fabulous. So if you don't play, everyone will hate you."

"Gee, thanks twin," Scott said curtly, shaking his head at me.

Stiles looked like he was about to say something, then paused and leaned forward, examining the computer screen.

"What?" Scott asked, and we both leaned in to examine our own screen. Then Stiles began to type. _It looks like_… Then the screen froze, and the buffer circle appeared, slowly rotating. "It looks like what?" Scott asked me. I could only shrug in response. Scott banged on the keys. "Come on…dammit! It looks like what?"

…_someone's behind you._

What?" We both whirled around.

Derek Hale stood in the corner of Scott's room, and as soon as we were made aware of his presence, he rushed forward and pinned my brother against the wall by his throat.

"I saw you on the field," he growled in his ear.

"What are you talking about?" Scott exclaimed, crying out in pain.

"Scott he knows, he saw you change," I called out. "Derek, don't hurt him, please don't hurt him."

"You shifted in front of them!" Derek yelled, ignoring me entirely. "If they find out what you are, they find out about me, about _all_ of us. And then it's not just the hunters after us, it's _everyone_."

"They didn't see anything!" I yelled as Scott's breathing became labored. "I swear, they didn't see anything."

"And they won't!" Derek continued, pressing his hand tighter around Scott's throat. "Because if you even _try_ to play in that game on Saturday, I'm gonna kill you myself." He released his hold on his throat, and was out the window before anyone could say another word.

Scott leaned forward, his hands on his legs to catch his breath and I rushed forward. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

I shook my head. "What was he talking about when he said hunters?"

Scott sighed. "I was kind of hoping I wouldn't have to tell you about that."

"You haven't told her?!" Stiles' grainy voice yelled from the computer screen. I exhaled through my nose.

"Stiles, I think my brother and I need to have a conversation alone now, we'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Wait, Sophie, I gotta—"

"Goodbye, Stiles." I shut laptop, then leaned against the desk, crossing my arms. "So. Hunters. What was he talking about?"

Scott took a deep breath. "Remember the night of the party? I didn't come back until late?"

"Yeah, and you were covered in blood?"

Scott grimaced. "Yeah, well, that's sort of because I got shot."

My eyes widened. "Oh my god, you got _shot_?!" I flew from where I was leaning against the desk over to the bed and began frantically examining his body for any signs of bullet wounds, but he shook me off.

"No, Sophie, it's fine, it healed," he assured me, pulling back the sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the smooth skin beneath. "But apparently, there's this group of hunters. And they know what I am, what me and Derek are, and they've been hunting our kind for centuries."

"Did they see your face?"

"I don't think so. At least, I really hope not."

"Well I mean, if they know that there's another wolf that's bad enough, but I think if they don't know it's you then we should be off the hook for a little while. It gives us time to, you know, help you gain a little control." I sighed and wrapped my little brother into a hug. "Scott, honestly, don't worry about it for right now. Besides, if they want to get to you, they have to get through me first. And that's not as easy as you might think."

* * *

><p>"I don't know that much about lacrosse," Allison was telling me as we were walking down the hall. "So you might have to explain everything to me tomorrow night."<p>

I laughed. "Honestly, I don't know that much about it either. I can't even tell you what position Scott plays. I mean…they have positions, right?"

Allison giggled. "How would I know?"

I nodded. "Good point." I put my combination into my locker and pulled my French book out. "I'm really glad you two worked things out, by the way. I think he really likes you."

She blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Really? You think he likes me?"

"Remember that whole twin telepathy thing? I _know_ he likes you. He practically never shuts up about you." I shut my locker and turned to see her grinning.

"Really?" she repeated, her voice rising in pitch. But then her smile faltered, and she bit down on her lip. "Is this weird? Talking to you about your brother? I don't want this to be weird."

I gave her an encouraging smile. "It's not that weird," I told her, zipping up my backpack.

"Are you sure? It's just, the only other friend I've made here is Lydia, and she keeps trying to introduce me to these random guys on the team…" she trailed off, and I nodded in understanding.

"Nope, definitely not weird," I assured her. "Just…don't tell Scott I told you how much he likes you. Or he'll kill me."

Allison laughed. "No! My lips are sealed, promise. I definitely won't tell him."

"Won't tell who what?" A voice said from behind and I grimaced.

"Scott! Hey little brother, we were just talking about you." I said with a smile. He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah? Nothing bad, I hope?"

Allison smiled at him, her cheeks turning pink. "No, of course not. Just that I'm coming to see you play tomorrow night. And we're all going out afterwards. You, me, Lydia, Jackson. It's gonna be great. Oh, and Sophie, you should come! It'll be fun. Tell Stiles to come too." The bell rang shrilly, causing Scott to nearly jump out of his skin. "I gotta go," Allison was saying, "but save me a seat at lunch, okay?" She gave us a wave, and then took off the opposite way down the hallway. Scott could only stare at her retreating form, dumbfounded. I sighed. This was going to be a rough weekend.

* * *

><p>"Sophie!" Scott's voice echoed through the house, calling me out of my room.<p>

"Scott?" I asked, stepping out of my room to see the taller boy rushing up the stairs.

"I found…something…in the woods…Derek…Hale's…property," he told me, out of breath. "Gotta wait…for Stiles though…can…call…Sheriff…" he gripped my shoulders, then slumped against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

"Um, Scott, are you okay? Aren't you supposed to like, not get winded? Or something?

He shook his head. "No, I ran all the way here…from the Hale house."

"I thought the Hale house burned down?

"There was a fire, but it's still standing. Derek's living in it."

I grimaced. "Derek Hale is living the charred remains of the Hale house, where his entire family was burned alive in their beds? That's…profoundly disturbing." I shook my head. "Anyway, did you find what I think you found? Because if you did, I think you sho—"

I was interrupted by the sound of our front door slamming open and shut, and feet pounding up our stairs. "What the—"

"What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it?" Stiles burst into my bedroom, all flailing limbs. "And yes, I've had a lot of Adderall," he added, blinking rapidly.

"Um, Stiles, maybe you should sit down?" I suggested, directly him to my bed. "And seriously, cool it with the Adderall."

"I found something at Derek Hale's," Scott told us. "There's something buried there, I could smell blood."

"That's awesome!" Stiles cried. Earning a strange look from Scott and a raised eyebrow from me. "I mean…that's terrible. Whose blood?"

"I don't know," Scott said, sighing. "But when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder, and then you and Sophie have to help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing. Because there's no way I'm not playing that game." He grabbed his lacrosse stick and stalked out of the room. Stiles sent me a look.

"He's saying that so he can impress Allison, isn't he?"

"Honestly, why does he do anything these days?"

"Fair point. Let's go find a body!"

* * *

><p>The automatic doors of the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital glided open for the three of us as we walked into the main waiting area, and I was immediately hit with the strong scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer. Scott took a deep breath, and Stiles patted him on the shoulder. "Well…good luck, I guess," he said. Scott nodded. "Yeah, thanks," he said, and opened the door to the hall that read "Morgue."<p>

I shook my head. "Can I just say, I still think this is a dumb idea?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Sophie, you think _every _idea I have is a dumb idea."

"That's because every idea you have is a dumb idea."

"Not true. Only _most_ of them are dumb ideas."

"I resent that, you know I—oh my god," he stopped, smacking himself in the face.

I furrowed my brow. "What?"

"Over there. Lydia. Lydia Martin."

I nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"Sophie, you know I've had a crush on her since we were like, eight, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "How could I forget? She was the Princess in the _The Princess and the Pea_, and you fell in love."

"Are you mocking me? I feel like you're mocking me."

I groaned. "Oh my god. Stiles, you're sixteen years old. Just go _talk_ to her, for Christ's sake."

"I can't just—"

"Go. Now." I turned him around and pushed him in her direction, smirking as I sat down in one of the waiting room chairs.

"I hate you!" he hissed, but he walked up to her anyway. "Hey, Lydia, you, uh , probably don't remember me, but I sit behind you in Biology? Uh, anyway, I always thought that we just had this kind of…connection, you know, unspoken of course… Maybe it would be kind of cool, you know, to get to know each other a little better!" I bit my lip and grimaced. Someone had to teach that boy how to talk to a girl.

Lydia smiled and nodded, then said, "Hold on, give me a second." She swung her hair to the side and pulled a Bluetooth earpiece out of her ear. "Yeah, I didn't get any of what you just said, is any of it worth repeating?"

I groaned and leaned my head back against the wall I was leaning on as I watched Stiles flounder. "Yeah…um, no," he replied with a nervous laugh and a headshake. "Sorry. I'm gonna sit. You don't care. Bye."

He flopped into the chair next to me, and I patted his arm sympathetically. "You know, Stilinski, I have never, not once, understood what you see in her." I sighed, giving his arm a squeeze.

Lydia stood up as Jackson emerged into the waiting room. "Did he do it?" she asked him. He nodded.

"He said not to make a habit of it, but that one Cortisone shot won't kill me."

"You should get one right before the game too," Lydia replied nodding her head. "The pros do it all the time. You want to be a little high school amateur? Or do you want to go pro?"

I rolled my eyes and nudged Stiles. "See? I rest my case."

Stiles rolled his eyes, then nearly jumped out of his skin when Scott came rushing up. "The scent was the same," he said, his voice low.

"Are you sure?" I asked. He nodded.

"So he did bury the other half of the body on his property," Stiles said, shaking his head.

"Which means we have proof he killed the girl," I said slowly.

"I say we use it," Stiles decided, his mind clearly already made up.

"How?"

"Tell me something first," Stiles directed at Scott. "Are you doing this because you want to stop Derek, or because you want to play in the game and he said you couldn't?"

"He has a point Scott," I said quietly, looking up at my brother. He looked down at me in earnest.

"There were bite marks on the leg, Sophie. Bite marks."

Stiles nodded. "Okay, then we're gonna need a shovel."

* * *

><p>It was pitch black in the woods. The only light came from streaks of moonlight that filtered down through the clouds and leaves, covering everything in a ghostly blue hue that only heightened my nerves. I sat in the familiar backseat of my best friend's jeep, waiting for Scott to give us the go-ahead. We were facing the blackened Hale house, waiting for Derek to leave.<p>

"As if sneaking into the morgue wasn't a bad enough idea," I muttered under my breath, "now we're going to dig up half a dead body that's buried in the front yard of a serial-killing werewolf. Lovely."

Stiles shushed me from the front seat. "Do you have any better ideas?!"

"No, but we could at least do this in _daylight."_

"Not if we want Scott to be able to play tomorrow night."

"Call me crazy Stiles, but I _really_ don't see how that's important right now."

"I don't think you understa—"

"Would you two please just _shut up_?" Scott hissed at us from the passenger seat. "He's leaving."

We watched as Derek exited the front door, and walked up to the sleek black Camaro that was parked on what used to be the front lawn. He unlocked it, then paused, taking a look around the clearing. I felt my breath hitch in my chest. But Derek didn't see anything amiss, so he simply got in his car and drove off. A minute later, Stiles pulled the Jeep into the clearing, and we all got out, the boys carrying shovels and me, a flashlight.

"Wait, something's different," Scott whispered as we approached the house.

"Different how?" I asked, examining the charred siding of the house.

"I don't know," Scott replied hesitantly, looking up at the trees. I shivered. "Guys, maybe we should come back in the morning. I have a really bad feeling about this."

Stiles groaned. "Soph, don't you know that anytime anyone says 'I've got a bad feeling about this,' they usually end up getting brutally murdered?"

I glared at him. "You're not doing anything to help calm me down, Stiles."

"Can we just get this over with?" Scott asked, walking up to a mound of freshly dug up dirt. They began to dig while I shone the light on them, sitting down on the ground with my legs crossed underneath me. Every noise made me start—an owl hooting in the distance, leaves rustling in the wind. After what seemed like ages, the hole wasn't more than a few feet deep, and I was growing more and more anxious by the second.

"This is taking way too long," I whispered, checking the clock on my cell phone.

"Just keep digging," Stiles told Scott. I groaned.

"What if he comes back?" I persisted, growing fidgety.

"Then we get the hell out of here."

"And what if he catches us?"

"I have a plan for that," Stiles said, giving me a reassuring glance.

"Which is?" Scott asked, continuing to dig.

"You run left, I run right, Sophie runs…that way. Whoever he catches first, too bad."

"I hate that plan," Scott and I said in unison.

Stiles stopped digging. "Okay, I hate it when you guys do that."

"Wait, stop," Scott said as his shovel hit something hard.

"Did you find something?" I whispered, my breath hitching in my chest.

"Soph, can you shine the flashlight down here?" Scott asked as he and Stiles couched down and began to move the remaining dirt with their hands. I obliged silently, leaning forward to watch as the uncovered what looked like a rope. "Hurry," he said to Stiles.

"I'm trying, did he have to tie the thing in like 900 knots?" He replied exasperatedly as he frantically tried to untie the knotted rope.

A branch cracked beside me, and I whirled around to look at it.

"Guys, maybe we should move this alo—"

I was cut off by the boys screaming and leaping backwards, which caused me to shriek and nearly fall into the hole. "Oh my god, did you find it?" I whimpered, too terrified to look.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" Stiles yelled, motioning down into the hole.

"It's a wolf!" Scott cried in surprise, examining the contents of the hole closely.

I leaned forward to investigate for myself. Sure enough, instead of a human body in the hole, there was a wolf with a deep black coat, it's teeth bared in a snarl. "Yeah, I can see that," I said in a strangled voice.

"I thought you said you smelled blood?!" Stiles asked, his voice several pitches higher than normal. "As in human blood?"

"I told you something was different!" Scott pointed out.

"This doesn't make sense," I said, rubbing my arms from the cold.

"Look it doesn't matter, we gotta get out of here," Scott said, helping me to my feet.

"Yeah, help me cover this up." Stiles said as he began to toss the dirt back into the hole, but then he paused.

"Stiles, come on, we don't have time for this." I said, nudging him.

"Wait, do you see that flower?" he asked, motioning to a small purple plant growing a few feet away. Scott and I nodded. "I think it's wolfsbane."

"What, like _The Wolfman_?" I asked.

Stiles nodded. "Exactly like _The Wolfman_."

"Wait, what's _The Wolfman?_" Scott asked, his gaze flicking between Stiles and me.

"You've never seen _the Wolfman_? Stiles asked dubiously. "Oh my god, you're so unprepared for this." He stood up to go examine the flower more closely. "Look, it's attached to the rope." He pulled up on the flower, pulling a length of rope up with it. The more Stiles pulled, the more it became clear that the rope was laid out around the grave in the shape of a spiral.

"Um, guys?" Scott said, his voice rising in pitch. "You should see this." He pointed down to the grave.

"What?" I looked down. "Oh my god." I stepped back and nearly knocked Stiles over. Staring up at us was the corpse—or at least, the top half of a corpse—not of a wolf, but of a young woman.

* * *

><p>The Jeep zoomed down the tiny dirt road leading away from the Hale house, but I wasn't paying attention to the scenery. After being questioned by the police for what seemed like an eternity, they had finally seemed satisfied with our statements, taken Derek into custody, and allowed us to leave. "I can't find anything about wolfsbane being used for burial," I told Stiles, looking up from the small screen of my phone.<p>

"Just keep looking," Scott said from the backseat, wringing his hands.

"Maybe it's like a ritual or something," Stiles suggested. "Maybe they bury you as a wolf. Or maybe it's like a special skill, you know, something you have to learn."

"I'll put it on my to-do list," Scott remarked sarcastically. "Underneath how to figure out how I'm playing this game tonight."

"Maybe it's different for girl werewolves," Stiles continued. "Maybe—"

"Okay, stop it!" Scott burst out.

Beside me, Stiles blinked. "Stop…stop what?"

"Stop saying werewolf! Stop enjoying this so much!" He yelled, his voice deepening. I turned around.

"Scott, are you okay?"

"No, Sophie, no I'm not! I'm so far from being okay!"

"Scott, you're going to have to accept this sooner or later!" Stiles stated, throwing his hand in the air.

"I can't!"

"Well, you're gonna have to!"

"No, I can't breathe!" His hand slammed into the metal roof of the Jeep.

"Stiles, he's changing!" I yelled.

"What, now?!"

"Yes now, pull over!" In the backseat, Scott was groaning in agony. "Stiles, was it like this before? I think he's in serious pain."

"What? No, I don't think so, I don't—"

Stiles' backpack on the floor beside my feet caught my eye. Inside, along with the rope, was the purple flower. "Oh my god Stiles, you _kept it_?!" I shrieked.

"What was I supposed to do with it?"

"Throw it out!"

"STOP THE CAR." Scott growled from the backseat. I whirled around to see his eyes glowing a bright yellow. Stiles saw the same thing in the rearview mirror, and the Jeep came to a screeching halt. Stiles grabbed the bag from my hands, ripped open the door, and ran out into the trees, where he flung the bag as hard as he could into the woods.

I leapt out of the car. "What the hell were you thinking?" I practically yelled at him. "You know that stuff is like poison to them."

"I'm sorry! I didn't even think about it!"

"Obviously!" I turned around. "Scott are you—oh, crap."

Behind me, the doors to the Jeep were swinging wide open, and Scott was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

><p>My mom talked about the game for the entire drive to the high school, and while I tried my hardest to feign excitement, inside, I was freaking out.<p>

"Sophie, why do you keep checking your phone every eight seconds?" she asked me, taking her eyes off the road to watch me check my text messages for what felt like the fiftieth time. I blinked.

"Um, no reason. Just waiting for Stiles to send me something."

"Anything important?"

"Uh, no. I just asked him if he knows if he's getting any playing time tonight. You know, Scott made first line, I don't want Stiles to feel left out or anything."

My mom smiled. "You're a good friend, Sophie." I gave her a weak smile in return, still waiting for my phone to go off.

_Found him, in the locker rooms now. He's planning on playing_

_ What? Stiles, no, you can't let him play._

_ How am I supposed to stop him? He made up his mind, he says it's the only thing that's gonna make him feel normal_

_ "_Crap," I said under my breath, putting my hand to my forehead.

"Everything okay?"

"Uhhhh yeah. Just realized I left my gloves at home, and it's supposed to get kind of cold tonight. I'll survive."

The stands were already almost full when mom and I arrived, but I saw Allison waving at me from her seat, beside Lydia and a man I could only assume was her father. I motioned to her that I would be up in a minute. "I'm gonna go sit with my friend Allison, okay?" I told my mom. She nodded, and I snuck down to the bench and sat beside Stiles. "Please tell me there is some way you can get him to stop playing in the next five minutes," I pleaded with him.

He shook his head. "Soph, I tried. And they aren't helping." He motioned behind him to where Allison and Lydia were standing—and where they were now holding a giant sign that read, "We Luv U Jackson." I grimaced.

"Brutal."

"Yeah. So I would say he's pretty set on playing tonight."

I groaned. "Well, crap."

"You better go. Game's gonna start any minute now."

I nodded. "Yeah, you're right. Be careful, okay?"

Stiles laughed. "Doubt I'll even see the field tonight, but thank you." I smiled at him, then made my wayto where Allison was seated. We were in for a long night.

"Hey!" she greeted me warmly. "Sophie, this is my dad!" She introduced me to the man beside her, who smiled at me and offered me his hand. "Dad, this is Sophie. Scott's sister."

I shook his hand and smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Argent," I said politely.

"Very nice to meet you, Sophie," Mr. Argent said gruffly as we sat back down. "Allison tells me that you and Scott are twins?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we are. Have you met him yet?"

"He hit him with our car," Allison answered for her father darkly, shooting him a look. I raised my eyebrows, and Allison clarified: "He stopped by earlier to see if I was coming to the game. And my dad hit him with our car."

"It was an accident, and he wasn't hurt," Mr. Argent defended himself, clearly embarrassed, but I didn't care about that.

"Scott was at your house?" I asked, trying to keep the concern I was feeling out of my voice.

But before she could reply, the whistle blew, and our attention immediately shifted to the field. The game picked up fast with Jackson scoring a goal in almost no time at all. But as the game progressed, I noticed that none of the players, not a single one, were passing to Scott, despite the fact that he was open about eighty percent of the time. And he was getting angry.

"No, Scott, not here…" I said under my breath, wringing my hands together. "Not here."

"Which one is Scott again?" Mr. Argent asked as he surveyed the field.

"Number eleven," I answered, wringing my hands together.

"Otherwise known as the only one who hasn't caught a single ball the entire game," Lydia said haughtily, her eyes narrowed.

"I hope he's okay," Allison said softly. Her hand clasped my arm subconsciously as she bit down on a fingernail.

"I hope we're okay," Lydia muttered. I inhaled deeply in an attempt to stop myself from snapping at her. "We need to win this." She stood up and pulled another poster out from under the bleachers, this one reading 'Jackson is #1.' "Allison," she barked, looking down at her. "Little help here."

Allison sighed and touched her fingers to her forehead, but stood up and grasped a corner of the poster anyway. Down on the field, I saw Scott look up at us, and I cringed. Whatever Lydia was doing, Scott was getting more and more angry, I could tell from his body language. Crouching down low to the ground, he waited for the referee to blwo the whistle. And when he did, Scott was off. He gained possession of the ball, then literally _jumped_ over a rival player, landing on his feet and weaving in between players before finally jumping up and hurling the ball into the net, scoring. The crowd immediately surged to their feet and went wild for Scott.

"MCCALL! PASS TO MCCALL!" I heard Coach shrieking from the sidelines.

"Come on Scott," I whispered, watching as he finally got the ball. Then all bets were off—Scott was playing like I had never seen him play before, flipping off of other players, weaving in and out of every man on the field, throwing the ball so hard that it literally _ripped a hole_ in the goalie's net. But we were winning, so no one seemed to notice that Scott's physical feats should have been impossible. All they cared about was that Beacon Hills had won the game, and it was all because of Scott McCall.

"We won!" Allison yelled in my ear as she wrapped me in a celebratory hug. "We won! Scott won the game!" She was jumping up and down with excitement, but I was nervous. Down on the field, Scott was nowhere to be seen.

"Stiles!" I yelled, catching his eye down on the field. "Hey Allison, I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later okay? Stiles!" I hurried down off the bleachers and onto the field, grabbing my friend's jersey to steady myself. "Stiles, where the hell did Scott go?"

"I don't know, Sophie, but I have to tell you—" He paused. "Where's Allison?"

"What?"

"Allison? She's not with her dad."

"I just saw her! She was—" I turned around to scan the crowd, but I couldn't see her anywhere.

"I think I saw her walking towards…" Stiles' face paled. "The locker room. Sophie, she's going to the locker room."

"Okay?"

"Scott is in the locker room!"

"Oh my god."

"Yeah, oh my god is right. Come on." He grabbed my arm and I pumped my legs as fast as I could to get off that field.

We burst into the locker room, both of us panting, and yanked open the door. It was pitch dark inside, but I could hear Scott panting somewhere in the room. "Scott?" I heard a voice call out. It was Allison's.

"Oh god," I breathed. We scanned the every row of lockers, every crevice, to no avail, until we turned the corner to see—

Scott and Allison, standing in the showers, kissing.

"Oh god, gross," I whispered, whirling around my covering my eyes.

"What are they—oh, never mind," Stiles said loudly, and I yanked him back and covered his mouth. "Give them some privacy!" He rolled his eyes, and we waited until we heard footsteps retreating. Stiles swung his head around the corner.

"Hi Stiles," I heard Allison's voice say.

"Hey, yeah," He mumbled awkwardly, giving her a little wave. When she was gone, we both emerged from our hiding place to see Scott grinning from ear to ear.

"I kissed her," he said, his voice light and airy.

"I saw," Stiles quipped, smirking.

"She kissed me," Scott went on, sounding like…well, like a lovesick puppy.

"Saw that too," I piped up, scowling.

"Feels pretty good, huh?" Stiles asked, and I smacked his chest.

"Dude, gross."

Scott ignored both comments, but said, "I don't know how, but I…I controlled it! I pulled it back. Maybe I can do this! Maybe it's not that bad."

"Yeah…we'll talk later then," Stiles said, patting his best friend's chest. "Come on, Sophie."

Scott's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

Stiles sighed. "The uh, the medical examiner, he looked at the other half of the body we found."

"And?" Scott and I chorused.

Stiles grimaced. "You know—"

"Yes, we know you hate it when we do that," I rolled my eyes. "What did the medical examiner find?"

"Okay, I'll keep it simple. Medical examiner determines killer of girl to be animal not human, Derek's human not animal, Derek not killer, Derek let out of jail."

"Are you kidding?" Scott asked, his eyes growing wide.

"No, and here's the bigger kick in the ass—my dad ID'd the dead girl, both halves. Her name was Laura Hale."

"Hale?" Scott and I repeated at the same time. Stiles nodded.

"Derek's sister."


	3. Pack Mentality

**Chapter Three  
>Pack Mentality<strong>

"We were in a school bus, and we were kissing, and then it started happening. And I grabbed her, and she started screaming, but I didn't care, it was like…it was like I _wanted_ to hurt her. All I could see was red, and I could hear her heart beating in her chest and I just dragged her to the back of the bus and…" Scott trailed off as the three of us were walking up the front steps of the school. "I woke up after that."

"So you killed her?" Stiles asked as he pushed open the door.

"I don't know," Scott replied with a shrug. "I just woke up sweating like crazy and I couldn't breathe, I've never had a dream where I woke up like that before."

"Really? Stiles quipped, smirking. "I have. They usually end a little differently though."

I glared up at him. "Oh my god, please don't ever say anything like that in my presence again."

"A, I've never had a dream that felt that real and B, never give me that much detail about you in bed again," Scott said, grimacing.

"Ever," I added.

Stiles chuckled. "Noted. Let me take a guess here though—"

"I know, you think it has something to do with me going out with her tomorrow night, like I'm gonna lose control and rip her throat out."

"No, that's not it," Stiles replied, sounding slightly offended, which of course meant that that was exactly what he thought.

"Yeah that's totally it," I said, raising my eyebrows at him. Scott sighed. "Hey, Scott, it's gonna be fine!" I said brightly as we stopped in front of Stiles' locker.

"Personally, I think you're handling this pretty freaking amazingly," Stiles said as he zipped up his backpack. "You know, it's not like there's a lycanthropy for beginners class you can take."

"No, not a class…" Scott said thoughtfully. "But there may be a teacher."

"Who, Derek?" I asked with eyebrows raised. "You're kidding, right?"

"Yeah remember that part where we got him tossed in jail?" Stiles added, smacking Scott upside the head.

"Yeah I know! But chasing her, dragging her to the back of the bus…" Scott trailed off. "It felt so real."

"How real?"

"Like it actually happened."

"I don't know Scott," I said hesitantly. "Maybe being a werewolf just comes with extra vivid dreams."

"That's the thing though, it didn't feel like I was dreaming."

Stiles opened the door that led to the east wing of the building, then stopped dead in his tracks. "Maybe you weren't."

In front of us was a bus, and it looked exactly as Scott had described it to us—dented, scratched, and covered in blood.

* * *

><p>Scott was rushing through the halls that were steadily filling up with more and more students, looking frantically at every face he passed, to no avail.<p>

"Maybe it's just a coincidence!" Stiles called after him. "A seriously amazing coincidence," he added under his breath, and I shot him a look. _Not all things need to be said out loud_, I reminded him.

"She's not answering any of my texts," Scott said desperately. "Just help me find her, okay?"

He continued to roam the halls, his breathing getting more and more panicked, his searching bordering on hysteria. "Scott!" I called after him, but he was beyond hearing me now. He slammed his hands onto a set of lockers practically growling. "Scott…" I said slowly. "Calm down. You need to calm dow—"

"RAGH!" Scott yelled, and crashed his fist straight into the locker in front of him, denting the metal and knocking it off its hinges, earning strange looks from the students in the hall.

Realizing what he had done, he met my eyes, then slowly began to back out of the hall. "I'm…I'm sorry…I…"

"Oh my god!" Somebody cried as Scott backed straight into them. He whirled around, and I felt my heartbeat slow down when I realized who it was.

"Allison!" Scott cried.

She grinned. "You scared the hell out of me!" She joked as she knelt down to pick up her things. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Stiles.

"We have _got_ to get him some stress management classes."

* * *

><p>"But dreams aren't memories," I told Scott as we took our lunch trays to our usual table.<p>

"But it wasn't a dream," Scott insisted as we sat down. "Okay, something happened last night, and I can't remember what."

"And what makes you sure that Derek even has all the answers?" Stiles questioned, stealing a French fry off my tray.

"Because during the full moon, he wasn't changed," Scott explained. "He was in total control."

"While you were running around in the middle of the night attacking some totally innocent guy," Stiles remarked, taking a sip of my milk.

"Hey, we don't know that," I insisted, giving him a look. "Dude, get your own food."

"We don't not know it!" Scott maintained. "I can't go out with Allison tonight. I have to cancel."

"No, you're not cancelling." I said evenly.

Stiles nodded. "You can't just cancel your whole life, Scott. We'll figure it out."

"Figure what out?" A bubbly voice asked from above. I looked up to see a perky redhead standing above us, smiling. Lydia sat down next to Scott, still smiling, as she waited for our response.

"Um, why is she sitting with us?" I murmured to Stiles as she maintained a smile at Scott.

"Dude I don't know!" he hissed back. Within a few minutes, the _entire_ popular crowd was suddenly sitting at our table, and Stiles and I could only send questioning glances to each other. Then it dawned on me: Scott was _one of them_ now. He was responsible for winning the first lacrosse game of the season. He was dating Allison—who was now friends with Lydia. Scott was _popular_.

"So I hear they're saying it was some sort of animal attack," Danny Mahealani said as he bit into an apple. "Probably a cougar."

"I heard mountain lion," Jackson said, leaning back in his chair.

"A cougar is a mountain lion," Lydia corrected him, then realized that she had actually said something smart and cocked her head to the side. "Isn't it?"

Jackson rolled his eyes. "Who cares? The guy was probably some homeless tweaker who was going to die anyway."

"Actually, I just found out who it was, check it out," Stiles said, holding up his phone as it played a newscast of the crime scene.

"The Sheriff's department won't speculate on details of the incident, but confirm the victim, Garrison Meyers, did survive the attack. Meyers was taken to a local hospital, where he remains in critical condition."

"Hey, I know this guy," I said, meeting Scott's eyes. "Remember when we used to take the bus? When we lived with dad?"

He nodded, remembering. "He was the driver."

"Can we talk about something slightly more fun please?" Lydia intoned from the other side of the table. "Like…oh, where we're going tomorrow night!" She aimed at Allison, but the brunette just looked at her in confusion. "You and Scott were hanging out tomorrow night, right?"

"Oh…I…uh…we hadn't decided what we were gonna do…"Allison fumbled for an excuse, while I could only roll my eyes. Leave it to Lydia to shove her way into my brother's date.

"Well," Lydia quipped, waving her hands through the air while she talked," I am _not_ sitting home again watching lacrosse videos, so the four of us_ are_ hanging out, and we are doing something fun."

Scott turned to Allison. "Hanging out? Like…the four of us? Do you…_want_ to hang out? Like us and…_them_?"

Allison nodded. "Yeah. I guess. Sounds fun." She sounded hesitant.

"You know what else sounds fun?" Jackson spoke up from the end of the table as he held up a metal fork. "Stabbing myself in the face with this."

Stiles rolled his eyes at me and I nodded. "Jackass," I muttered just loud enough for him to hear. He nearly spit out his water, which made me start to laugh, which earned us glares from Scott.

No one else seemed to notice, however, least of all Lydia who said, "What about bowling?" excitedly to Jackson. "You love bowling!"

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, with actual competition."

"How do you know we're not actual competition?" Allison challenged him front he other end of the table.

_Oh no_.

"You can bowl, right?" She asked my brother.

_No, no he cannot._

"Sort of," he replied with a shrug.

_No, you can't!_

"Is it sort of, or yes?" Jackson asked, leaning forward.

_It's no. The answer is no, you cannot bowl. SCOTT._

"It's yes," Scott replied, his eyes steely. "In fact, I'm a _great_ bowler."

I grimaced. _Scott, you suck at this whole twin telepathy thing._

* * *

><p>"You are a <em>terrible<em> bowler!" I cried as we left the cafeteria.

"I know!" Scott exclaimed back. "God, I'm such an idiot!"

"It was like watching a car wreck," Stiles groaned. "I mean first, it turned into that whole group date thing, and then out of nowhere comes that _phrase_."

"What, hang out?" I asked. "Is that a bad thing?"

"You don't hang out with hot girls, Sophie, it's like…death. Once you hang out…you might as well be her gay best friend."

"Overdramatic much? You and I hang out all the time."

"Yes, Sophie, and I am practically your gay best friend."

"You're gay?" I arched an eyebrow and glanced at my brother. "Scott, did he just come out?

"I don't know, did he?"

"Oh my god, you get the point I'm trying to make!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

"Which is that you're gay…?" I said slowly, my head tilted to the side.

"What? No, Sophie, I'm not gay! I mean given the choice I would totally sleep with you."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I mean…no, not like that. Like, in a post-apocalyptic, repopulate the world scenario."

"So I'm not attractive enough to sleep with?"

"No I mean I think you're very attractive—"

"Dude, are you trying to sleep with my sister?"

"What? Dude no, I—NO." Stiles held his hands up in surrender, and I burst out laughing, linking my arm through his.

"I'm messing with you, Stilinski. I know what point you're trying to make. But I still don't see why it's the end of the world. It's just a group date."

"How is this happening to me?" Scott asked exasperatedly. "I either killed a guy or I didn't, I ask Allison on a date and now we're 'hanging out,' I make first line and the team captain wants to destroy me, and now…now we're gonna be late for work!"

"Wait what?" I asked, yanking my phone out of my pocket. "Oh, holy mother of—"

Stiles sighed. "Kids. Can never keep track of time. Come on, I'll drive."

* * *

><p>We burst in through the back door of the clinic, discarding jackets and backpacks and rushing into the exam room where Dr. Allan Deaton was restocking a box or surgical pads. "Sorry, sorry we're late!" I apologized profusely, grabbing a box from the pile and beginning to unpack it. Deaton smiled.<p>

"You're all of two minutes late," Deaton chuckled.

"I don't want you to think we're slacking," Scott said sheepishly as I handed him another box.

"I guarantee you, you are two of the least slacking kids in this town."

I smiled as I pulled my long, dark hair up into a ponytail. "Some of us less slacking than others," I directed at my brother with a wink.

As Scott turned around to pick up another box, saw his body tense up. I turned around to see Sheriff Stilinski standing in front of the door. "Scott," I said softly. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"He knows," he said gruffly under his breath."

"We don't know that you did anything. Just stop talking about it."

"Sophie—"

But all of Scott's fears were rebuffed when the Sheriff opened the door to reveal Jack the police dog trailing in front of him on a leash.

"Hey, I see somebody's ready to get their stitches out!" Deaton said happily as he leaned down to pet the dog. Beside me, I heard Scott exhale, and I patted his back comfortingly.

"Hey there Scott, Sophie," the sheriff greeted us with a smile, taking off his sunglasses. "You two staying out of trouble?"

Scott could only nod in awkward silence, so I jumped in with, "Well, we're friends with Stiles, trouble usually isn't far with him."

The sheriff laughed heartily, then turned his attention back to the dog and I nudged Scott hard in the side.

"Hey listen, while I'm here, would you mind taking a look at those pictures I was telling you about?" he asked Deaton, holding up a folder that read _Evidence Envelope. _"Sacramento still can't determine an animal."

Deaton took the folder from the sheriff's grip, both of them unaware that my brother and I were now hanging on their every word. "I'm not exactly an expert," Deaton said hesitantly, removing several photographs from the folder. "This is the guy who was attacked on the bus?"

"Yeah," Stilinski confirmed, placing his hands on his hips. "And we found wolf hairs on Laura Hale's body."

"A wolf?" Scott asked. I shot him a warning look. _Do not say anything stupid, Scott McCall._ "I mean…I think I read somewhere that wolves haven't been in California for sixty years."

Deaton nodded. "True enough, but wolves are highly migratory. They could have wandered in from another state, driven by impulse, or strong enough memory."

"Wolves have memories?" I asked, remembering our conversation from earlier.

"Longer term memories, yes," Deaton confirmed, his eyes still on the pictures. "Usually associated with a primal drive. See these here?" He changed the subject, pointing to a photo of the man's face. "These are claw marks. A wolf would have gone for the throat, the spinal cord, with its teeth," he explained, miming a choking action.

"So what do you think? The Sheriff asked. "It's a mountain lion?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Deaton replied. "A wolf _would_ chase down its prey, hobbling it by tearing at the ankles, and then the throat." I looked up at Scott, who confirmed what I was thinking with a miniscule nod.

That was exactly what he had described doing to Allison.

* * *

><p>The hospital doors slid open for Scott and I as we approached the nurse's station, a bag of Chinese food clutched in my hand. As soon as our mom saw us and what we were bringing her, she beamed. "Are my beautiful, talented, and wonderful children <em>actually<em> bringing me dinner?" She asked as I handed her the bag.

"We thought you wouldn't mind skipping the cafeteria tonight," Scott said with a smile, and I nodded.

"You can only have so many stale Turkey sandwiches before you go crazy," I added, leaning forward on the desk.

"Aw. You are the most, thoughtful, loving, most conniving, little con artist twins ever, you are so not getting the car tomorrow night."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Mom!"

"What, you think Sophie didn't tell me about your little group date hang out dilemma?"

Scott turned to glare at me and I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I though this would work."

Mom gave him a look. "There's a curfew. No car. But I will take this," she said cheerfully, picking up the bag of food. "Love you two!"

Scott groaned. "You said it would work!"

I shrugged and help up my hands in surrender. "I thought it would too! When is the last time she was able to resist a food bribe?"

He sighed. "Tomorrow night is a disaster and it hasn't even happened ye—" he stopped dead in his tracks, and turned 180 degrees.

"Scott?" I asked. "Scott, what is it?"

He didn't reply, only walked forward, leaving me to trail after him.

He stopped short at a door, sniffed lightly, and then slowly opened it. "Scott, you can't just go into a patient's room—"

"Sh." He said shortly, putting a finger to his lips and pulling me into the room. He shut the door behind us, then slowly opened the curtain that was obscuring its occupant from us. My hands flew to my mouth when I realize who it was.

He was hooked up to more monitors than I could count. Most of his body was covered in bandages, and there was a machine that was helping him to breathe. He didn't look like he was alive—the only thing that told me otherwise was the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

"Mr. Meyers?" Scott asked gently.

"Scott, I'm not sure he can hear you."

"Mr. Meyers?" Scott repeated, slightly louder. To my surprise, the wounded man blinked his eyes open, and slowly turned to look at my brother. "Are you okay?" my twin asked, concern plain in his voice. But instead of responding, the man suddenly sat straight up, grabbing my brother's arm and yelling manically. I jumped backwards with a shriek, just as the door banged open and Nurse McCall ran in.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?" She yelled, attempting to restrain the man. "Get out! Get out!"

"What the hell just happened?" I cried as Scott practically dragged me back outside. "What was that?"

"I think…I think he recognized me," Scott said, his voice broken. "I think he knew who I was."

* * *

><p>I was woken up by screaming.<p>

I bolted upright when I heard my mother's screams from across the hall—Scott's room. _Oh no. No no no no no no. Scott, please be human. Please be human, please don't let this be the way she finds out._ I threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, flinging open the door and bolting across the hallway, just in time to hear my mother yelling, "STILES, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?" while holding a baseball bat over her head.

"What am I doing?! What are you doing? God, do any of you even play baseball?!" Stiles cried. I flicked on the light.

"Um, hi, what the hell is going on?" I asked groggily, rubbing my eyes.

"Sophie, can you please tell your friend to use the front door?" Mom asked me, finally lowering the baseball bat.

"But we lock the front door," I replied, still half-asleep. "He wouldn't be able to get in."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Mom?" Another voice joined the conversation, as Scott came up the stairs and entered his room, confused as to why his entire family and his best friend were in his room at 11:30 at night.

Mom rubbed her eyes and tossed her hands up in defeat. "Do any of you care that there's a police enforced curfew right now?"

"No," the three of us replied in unison.

Mom laughed the kind of laugh that you could only do when you had given up entirely. "Well, alright then. That's about enough parenting for me for one night. Good night."

As soon as she was out of the room, Stiles released a sigh, and, now fully awake, I sat next to him on the bed. "What?" Scott pulled up his desk chair, and the two of us scooted closer to hear what Stiles had to say.

"My dad left for the hospital fifteen minutes ago, it's the bus driver. They said he 'succumbed to his wounds.'"

"Succumbed?" Scott asked, his brow creased.

"Scott, he's dead."

My brother's face dropped.

My brow furrowed. "Wait. But…Scott…you didn't…"

"No, he didn't," Stiles answered my unspoken question and rested his hand on mine. "We broke into the school earlier. Scott thinks that he was trying to protect him, and that _Derek_ was the one who killed him."

"Okay, I'm not even going to say what I think about the two of you breaking into the school. How do you know it was Derek?" I asked, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. "If you dreamed that you did it…how do you know you didn't?"

"Some of the blood was mine," Scott explained. "Actually, _a lot_ of the blood was mine. He got my chest pretty bad. But because I was…sleepwalking, or something—"

"Sleep-wolfing, actually," Stiles interrupted, grinning. I rolled my eyes.

"Because you were sleepwalking…?"

"I healed before I realize that I was even hurt. I think I was actually trying to _protect_ him."

I practically jumped off the bed with excitement. "Scott, that's great!" I cried. "That means you didn't kill him!"

"Yeah, but he's still dead," Scott said, hanging his head. "I didn't exactly do a great job of protecting him." He stood up, scowling, and his breathing began to pick up. "And it didn't matter. Because Derek killed him anyway."

"Whoa, Scott, you don't know that," I said, holding a hand out to steady him, but he swatted it away.

"I have to go," he growled, grabbing his jacket. "Don't follow me."

"Scott—" I called after him as he went towards the window, but he whirled around and stepped close to me, almost knocking me over.

"I said, don't follow me!" he growled in my face, slamming his hand into the wall beside my head, his eyes glowing a bright, golden yellow. I jumped backwards, blinking rapidly as hot tears threatened to spill over my eyelashes.

"Scott…" I whispered, my back pressed against the wall.

He blinked, realizing what he was doing. "Sophie…I'm sorry…I…I'm sorry…" he backed way from me, gripping his head. "I'm sorry…" And before I could do anything else, he had disappeared out the window.

I choked out a sob, and Stiles leapt up, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice anxious.

I shook my head as the tears spilled freely down my cheeks now. "No," I admitted, shaking my head. "No, I'm not okay. I'm terrified."

"Shhh, Sophie, it's fine," Stiles said softly, turning me in his arms so he was properly hugging me. "He's just freaked out. He didn't mean to do that."

"You mean wolf out on me?" I choked out into his shoulder. "I thought he was going to…I thought he was gonna…I thought…"

"Soph, you know he never would."

"I didn't. Not just then. I didn't know."

Stiles pulled away from me and met my eyes. "Sophie. You're fine. He didn't, and that's what matters. He didn't. Okay? Listen to me, he loves you, and he wouldn't do that."

I nodded shakily. "He wouldn't hurt me. He wouldn't hurt me." I repeated. But I couldn't stop crying.

* * *

><p>"Sophie?" I heard a voice ay softly from the open doorway to my room. "Are you asleep?"<p>

Groggily, I opened my puffy eyes and sat up. "Scott?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep as I rubbed my eyes. "Is that you?"

"Yeah." I saw him step out of the shadows and into the moonlight that crept in through my curtains, stopping at the foot of my bed.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Yes." I said quietly as I let my eyes adjust to the low light. When I was finally coherent enough, I glanced up at my brother's form to see his clothes in tatters and covered in blood, and his hair matted down with dirt. "What happened to you?"

"Derek."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

Scott laughed halfheartedly. "You think everything is a bad idea," he said, echoing Stiles' words from just a few days ago.

"That's because everything usually is a bad idea." I said flatly. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them. "What do you want?"

"To apologize, mostly," he said sheepishly. "For…for what I did earlier."

"Oh, you mean slamming me into a wall and wolfing out on me? That?"

"Yeah. That. I don't…I don't have a lot of control over this. Not that that's an excuse, but I…I just…"

I sighed and scooted over, patting the empty space beside me. "Come here." Scott obliged, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. "I forgive you."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"Just like that?"

I smirked. "Just like that. You just…you scared the hell out of me, Scotty."

Scott wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what I would do…if I had hurt you…"

I shook my head and pulled away from his embrace to meet his eyes. "We don't have to talk about it, okay?" I ruffled his hair playfully. "It happened, it's done, I'm fine. No big deal."

"No big deal?"

I smiled. "No big deal."

My twin sighed in relief. "Good. Because I have stuff to tell you."

"Stuff?" He nodded, and I reached over to my nightstand to turn on my lamp. "What kind of stuff?"

Scott sighed. "Well, I was at Derek's tonight."

"And?"

"And, he sort of kicked my ass."

I cocked my head to the side and motioned to his tattered, bloodstained clothes. "I can see that."

"Well, he told me that he's not the one who bit me. Apparently he and I, we're something called…a beta? And betas can't bite. I was bitten by an—"

"An alpha?" I finished for him. "You were bitten by an alpha, right?"

Scott raised an eyebrow. "How did you know that?"

I shrugged. "Wolves travel in packs. Packs have alphas. It makes sense."

Scott paused, then nodded slowly. "Well…yeah. Yeah, I guess it does."

"So, who's the alpha?" I asked, holding my knees to my chest.

"We don't know," Scott admitted. "But I do know that he's the one who killed that bus driver, and Derek's sister."

I furrowed my brows. "So…Derek isn't the bad guy?"

"No, but Sophie…the alpha. He wants me. There's a reason he bit me."

"Which is?'

"He wants me to join his pack."

* * *

><p><span><strong>Author's<strong>** note:** I definitely don't think this is my best chapter so far, but it was really difficult to write Sophie into this one, considering that for half of it Scott and Allison were on a date and Scott was throwing down at Derek's place, and I really didn't see Sophie fitting into either of those scenarios. I tried my best, though, and this was the result. In this chapter I really wanted to develop more on Stiles' and Sophie's relationship, as well as her relationship with her brother, and I think I did that pretty effectively, but you can definitely look forward to more twin bonding, more Stiles/Sophie bonding, and more Allison/Sophie bonding in future chapters! Also, I'm really hoping to start Sophie on her own story arc soon, so she's not just tagging along for the ride when it comes to Scott.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter somewhat! Your positive feedback means the world to me :)


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